


Things Left Behind

by firefright, Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Consent Issues, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-06 00:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Dick Grayson thought he'd left the past behind. Two years after running from his former home, he's found a new one under Bruce Wayne's roof, as well as love in the form of his son Jason. But the past never stays buried, and sooner or later it will track you down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome everyone! So this is not a pleasant thing. If non-consent, abuse, violence, or blatant manipulation of consent are going to upset you (in a bad way), you should turn around right now; bad times lay in wait. (To everyone else, read on and enjoy!)
> 
> [Firefright's Tumblr is here.](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)  
> [Skalidra's Tumblr is here.](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)

Dick’s always loved how Jason looks when he’s reading, curled into the corner of a couch with a thick book open in his hands, utterly lost within whatever world exists inside the pages. Bruce is on the opposite side of the room at his desk, pen a quiet background noise that joins the faint crackle of the fireplace. Otherwise, the only sound is the soft rustle of paper as Jason turns pages, and that familiar cadence makes Dick smile the moment he comes in the room.

He crosses it, coming up to slide onto the couch next to Jason and press up against his side. “Hey, babe,” he murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle against his temple, taking a shallow breath to breathe in his mate’s scent.

Jason hums a response, leans into him slightly but doesn’t look away from the book. Dick’s not surprised.

He settles in, resting his head on Jason’s shoulder and peering down at the pages. Honestly, he could stay like this forever. The light filtering in through the windows, the scent of his mate in his nose, and his alpha across the room, strong and steady and simply there. He’s never been more content than how all of this feels. He’s never been as happy as he is here.

The door opens, and Dick flicks his gaze up to look with only a small flicker of protective instinct. It fades instantly when Alfred is the one to come through, offering him a small nod before heading over to Bruce and leaning down to speak with him. It’s quiet, inaudible except for a faint murmur of sound. Dick eases himself back down against Jason’s shoulder.

Bruce’s, “Show him in,” is just loud enough to be heard, and that gets Dick to lift his head for real this time.

He watches as Bruce gets up from the desk and circles around it, Alfred heading back out the door but leaving it slightly open. Bruce is straightening his clothing, brushing down the folds formed from sitting so long in one place, as he heads towards them.

“We have a guest,” Bruce offers, adjusting his cuffs. “Here to see you and I, Dick. Jason?” Here he gives a small smile, as Jason looks up from the book with an equally small frown. “Would you mind putting that down for a bit?”

Jason’s frown deepens a little, but he sighs and nods, closing his book and setting it aside on the small table beside the couch. “Yeah, alright.”

Dick smiles and leans in to give him a small kiss to his cheek, taking one of his hands and lacing their fingers together. “Just for a minute. Come on.”

He pulls Jason to his feet, squeezing for just a moment before he lets go and steps slightly to the side, putting a more proper distance between them for whatever company is on its way. Jason brushes his own clothes down, reaching up to fasten the last few buttons on his collar and hide the couple inches of skin revealed. Bruce dips his head in a small nod, then turns towards the door.

The man Alfred leads through is tall, white hair falling roughly to his jaw, a single blue eye sharp and contrasted by a white eyepatch covering the other. Dick feels his eyes widen, his heart skip a beat as he stares. He swallows, fear closing his throat, his hands drawing tight.

 _Slade_.

Slade’s gaze flicks from Bruce to Dick, focuses on him. He shivers at the weight of it, and then the way that his mouth curls at the edges. Sharp as his gaze, as it always has been.

“Lord Wayne,” he says, aiming that smile at Bruce, with a dip of his head only barely deep enough to be considered acceptable to a head of household. “Thank you for granting me an audience.”

“Of course.” There’s a beat of silence as Slade stands there, and Bruce faces him and waits for some continuation. It doesn’t come. “I was told that you had some business with me?”

Slade steps forward. “Yes, you have something that belongs to me. I’d like it back.”

Bruce straightens that last half inch, facing Slade evenly as the other alpha begins to move forward. “Excuse me?”

“The boy you’ve taken in; Grayson. He’s mine.”

From his place beside him, Dick can feel Jason’s shock radiating, but with Slade standing right there, he can’t do anything to acknowledge or assuage it. All he can do is stare as the alpha he thought he had long since left behind approaches him across the room, walking with a calm sense of authority despite the way Bruce glares at him.

Dick’s knees threaten to buckle as Slade’s scent reaches his nose; the urge to submit growing in his chest. It’s a struggle to fight it, to remember that he’s been independent of that control for two years now. That he’s built a new life for himself, with a new pack, a _mate_. A mate he has to protect… protect from...

“Hello, pet,” Slade smiles down at him as he stops less than a foot away, “Did you miss me?”

“Slade…”

“Dick?” Jason shifts closer to him, a nervous undercurrent now in his body language as he picks up on Dick’s own reaction. The brush of a shoulder against his own should be reassuring to him, but instead Dick only feels nauseous. “Who is this?”

“I think I should be the one asking that.” Slade says pleasantly, reaching out to brush his fingers down Dick’s cheek. “Something you maybe forgot to tell them, boy?”

"I want an explanation for why you're in my home. _Now._ " Bruce's voice is just shy of a growl, and the deliberate step forward is clear threat and demand. Slade ignores it, doesn't pull his hand away or offer any indication of give.

Why should he? He's another three inches taller than Bruce and maybe even heavier too. Dick's never met another alpha quite as dangerous.

More unease filters around the room. Not least from Dick. He swallows thickly, “He’s... “

“Go on, out with it.” Slade says, stroking his fingers down his cheek to Dick’s throat. “Tell him what he wants to know.”

He’s enjoying this. Of course he is.

Dick closes his eyes for a moment, then forces himself to answer. “He’s Slade Wilson. A mercenary, and… and he was my alpha.”

The atmosphere in the room turns colder.

Jason recoils away from him, and when he next speaks Bruce’s voice is like ice, “You told me you didn’t have a pack. You said you were alone.”

“I don’t—”

“He ran away from me. Two years ago.” Slade explains. Dick’s breath hitches as the fingers on his throat threaten to curl around it. “I’ve been looking for him ever since.”

“That can’t be true.” Before anyone else can speak, Jason’s voice rings out. Slade’s eye shifts to him, and Dick immediately takes the opportunity to take a step back, pulling himself away from the burn of Slade’s touch. His mate’s cheeks are pink when he says, “I would know if he…” his eyes dart to Bruce, who looks back stonily. “Dick doesn’t have a claiming mark.”

… damn. If he hadn’t been so startled by Slade’s appearance, Dick might have thought of that and used it to deny Slade’s claim in the first place. But he’d never expected to see Slade again, that was the entire point. He’d put years and miles between them to that end, hoping that Slade might give up on him, maybe even assume he was dead. Only he’d underestimated him.

He should have kept moving. Never should have stopped. Except that he’d stumbled upon this place, met Jason, Bruce and the rest of his family. It had felt so good to be welcomed here, to have what felt like a real home.

“Really?” Slade says, looking in a way Dick reflexively dislikes at Jason. “That’s interesting.”

His lips starts to pull back over his teeth as Bruce cuts in, moving closer as if he intends to put himself between them and Slade. “My son has a point, if your intention here is to take Dick from this place, you have no right to do so without evidence that you have a claim over him.”

“Even if he admitted as much?”

“Even then.” Bruce says, on the edge of a snarl.

Never has Dick been more grateful to Bruce than in this moment (except of course, for when he accepted Dick’s courtship of Jason). Bruce might only be doing it to try and save Jason from suffering the repercussions of Dick’s actions as well, but it still means something. Still gives him a chance to avoid slipping back into Slade’s hands.

If they can just get rid of Slade, he knows he can explain everything. That what he did, he didn’t do out of malice, or a deliberate intention to mislead. He’d just wanted a clean break, to forget. To no longer have Slade’s influence hanging over him.

Whatever he has to do to earn their forgiveness he’ll do. He’ll prove himself all over again to both Jason and Bruce if that’s what it takes.

Then Slade talks, and dashes his hopes immediately.

Still looking at Jason, he says in a deceptively mild tone, “You seem to know Dick rather well, are you sure you’ve never seen a mark on him? Right about...” Slade touches his fingers to his own right hip, “... here?”

Dick’s heart sinks into his stomach.

Behind him, Jason’s blush deepens at the insinuation, and despite his defiant gaze, he can’t quite manage to hide the way his eyes widen in recognition of Slade’s words. “I…”

It’s a tiny hesitation, but Slade leaps on it like a tiger scenting blood. “You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“Jason?” Bruce asks suspiciously.

Jason looks at Dick, biting his lip. He looks angry, both at himself and him. “There’s a scar.” he begrudgingly admits, turning his gaze away towards a corner of the room. “Just a scar. Not a bite.”

“Just a scar.” Slade repeats. Now he gives Bruce his actual attention, “No doubt the boy tried to disguise my claim on him after he ran, but I assure you, the mark is mine.”

“An unusual place for a claiming bite.”

“I’m an unusual man.” Slade smirks now, “And I had my reasons for leaving it where I did.”

Yes, like how not having it be obvious that Dick was claimed enabled Slade to use him in various ways for the jobs he took on in his mercenary work. Dick remembers well his own shock when Slade abandoned his neck to sink his teeth into the flesh over his hip instead, worrying them deep enough that it felt like they struck bone. He’d been unable to stand for days afterwards while the wound healed, and just thinking about it now sends a phantom pain shooting up and down his flank.

Bruce’s jaw tightens, “Show me, Dick.”

Dick starts to shake his head, “Bruce, please—”

“ _Show me._ ”

It’s a full on command, and Dick can’t defy it. He reaches with shaking hands down to his belt, undoing the buckle and sliding the leather free. Jason still won’t look at him as he pulls his trousers down and lifts the hem of his shirt just enough to bare his right hip, as well as the ugly ragged scar left behind when he took a heated knife to his skin to remove the evidence of Slade’s teeth.

“There,” Slade says casually, stepping towards Dick once again. His hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against the scar. “You see?”

“I see a scar.” Bruce says, through gritted teeth. “A scar that could have been made by any number of causes.”

Slade’s expression doesn’t change, but Dick feels the pressure increase against his hip. A bruising force that’s all too familiar. “I have no reason to lie to you, and you heard what the boy said before. But if the evidence of my claim isn't good enough for you, I suppose I could resort to _other_ ways of taking what's mine."

The implication is clear. An unspoken challenge hangs in the air. Between the two alphas, the atmosphere is as hot and heavy as an impending thunderstorm, and Dick watches with growing dismay as Bruce is forced to weigh his options.

If he decides to fight and wins, everything will be fine. But if Bruce were to lose… there’s far more at risk than just Dick and Jason. There’s the house, his wealth, and worst of all, the rest of the pack. Jason’s younger brothers and sister. If Slade were to decide to include them as part of Bruce’s penalty for failing to defeat him… Dick feels sick again just thinking about it.

Could Bruce beat Slade? Maybe. He’s a formidable fighter, Dick knows that from the training yard and earning his own place here. Certainly, he has a better chance of it than almost anyone else he’s ever encountered. But he remembers too, how incredibly dangerous his old alpha is. How many men and women he’s seen Slade kill.

It’s dangerous, too dangerous to take a risk on an unknown enemy, and judging by the way Bruce’s jaw tightens, he realises that too.

 _I’m sorry_ , he wants to say, but the words stay stuck in his throat. _I’m so sorry._

“Well?” Slade prompts Bruce, when the silence goes on a beat too long.

When it comes, the admittance is like a death knell.

“I recognise your claim.” Bruce says, speech stilted as if he’s having to force himself to say every word. “He belongs to you.”

“I’m glad you see things my way.” Slade smiles. He takes his hand away from Dick’s hip. “Now, just to clarify a few things. Your son… Jason, is it?”

Jason has backed off another step. His scent is starting to turn sour underneath that which Dick left on him. He knows what’s coming. They all do.

“Slade, don’t—” Dick tries to protest, but Slade just talks over him.

“Mated to my boy, is he?”

“Yes,” Bruce answers, his accusing gaze all on Dick, “He is.”

“I see.” Slade reaches up, stroking his hand thoughtfully over his beard. He turns his head to look at Jason, “Then I suppose you’ll be coming with me too, won’t you?”

“Bruce, please…” Jason looks to his father desperately, but Bruce can only shake his head.

“It will be all right, Jason.” he says, and Dick has no idea how his voice can be so steady in this moment. He wants to go to Jason, hold him, comfort him. Tell him he loves him and repeat Bruce’s words in a way that doesn’t sound like a lie, but Dick knows that Jason is more likely to hit him right now than accept his comfort.

With shaking hands he fastens his pants and belt back up, tucking his shirt in again while Slade continues talking to Bruce. Saying what, Dick no longer quite knows, his head is spinning too much. He thinks Bruce makes an offer to try and get Slade to spend at least a night here, which Slade refuses, citing he’s already secured lodgings nearby. The rest is a haze until Slade’s hand grips the back of his neck.

“Come on, boy, you and I need to have a word in private while that pretty mate of yours packs his belongings.”

* * *

Bruce directs them to the drawing room, before disappearing back into the rest of the house, presumably after Jason, who stormed from the room they were in the second he was allowed. As soon as the door is closed, Dick finds himself being thrown backwards, then pushed up against the nearest wall by Slade’s overbearing weight.

He expects it, but that doesn’t stop him from gasping as the air is knocked out of his lungs. Dick tries to inhale, but that exact moment is when Slade’s hand wraps around his throat, squeezing tight.

“Submit,” he growls into Dick’s face, as his hands claw at Slade’s arm. A heave, and Dick’s toes are barely touching the floor. “ _Submit_. Or I’ll really start to hurt you.”

 _You already are_ , Dick can’t say, but he knows Slade never makes a threat without meaning it. It should be harder than it is to obey, but apparently some old habits are so ingrained that they never go away. With Slade here, as huge and powerful as ever, his voice aggressive in Dick’s ears and his scent surrounding him, it’s almost as if the past two years never happened. Dropping his hands and letting his head fall back, Dick defies every instinct that tells him to struggle and fight as he’s being choked out, giving himself over entirely to Slade’s mercy, such as it is.

Seconds pass. Maybe a minute in which Dick wheezes and strains, struggling to bring tiny little snatches of breath into his lungs. The entire time, Slade watches him with a critical eye, assessing his actions. Through his reddening vision, Dick sees his nose twitch as Slade scents him; it’s only when the world starts to go dark around the edges that he’s finally released.

Dick falls to his knees, hauling in desperate lungfuls of air. One hand goes to his throat, touching tender flesh, while the other braces against the floor to keep him from collapsing completely. The position gives him a perfect view of Slade’s feet and not much else.

He doesn’t get up.

One of Slade’s boots rises, toe nudging against his shoulder, then the side of his neck until he turns his head away to bare it. “Later,” comes the words from above, “We’re going to make sure you never run from me again. For now, you’re going to sit here with me, and we’re going to wait for your mate to finish collecting his life. Is that clear?”

Dick rubs at his throat as much as he can stand, grimacing as he grates out, “Yes, alpha.”

Slade grunts, boot dropping away from his neck. “At least you can still listen.”

He watches as Slade’s feet step away from him, walking to the nearest chair and sitting down. A snap of his fingers indicates that he expects Dick to move over to join him, and Dick winces before forcing himself up onto his feet to stumble a couple paces closer before falling to his knees again (he refuses to crawl, no matter how much easier it would be). Almost as soon as he stops moving, Slade’s hand is in his hair, pulling Dick’s head forward until it’s pressed against his thigh. Then the hand slips down to Dick’s neck, squeezing over the back of it before forcing him to move his head so that his face is turned upwards, looking at Slade.

It’s far from comfortable. Dick clenches his jaw at the strain the position puts on his spine.

“You know,” Slade says, after a moment of looking at him, “if all you wanted was an omega to fuck, you could have just asked.”

Dick recoils, or rather, tries to. “That’s not—” he winces further at the roughened sound of his own voice, “It’s not like that. That’s not why I…”

“Really?” Slade raises his eyebrow, before tracking his eye around the room, taking in the obvious signs of wealth. “You seem to have landed on your feet. Worked your way into a nice rich family.” His mouth curves into a small smirk. “The omega boy’s a bit big; old tastes there, Grayson?”

Shame coils hot in Dick’s belly. “Don’t talk about him like that.” he hisses, wishing he could turn his head away.

“Those skills I taught you must have come in handy for worming your way into his bed.” Slade continues, ignoring him. “I assume that’s how you did it. Seduced him, ruined his honour, so that uptight father of his had no choice but to allow you to—”

“No!” Dick shouts before he can stop himself. He’s horrified at the implication, the idea that he could... his and Jason’s courtship had lasted _months_ , even if the initial attraction between them had sprung into being much faster. He’d done everything by the book, properly, and while there might have been a few indiscrete moments along the way, he and Jason had never slept together until after the formal recognition of their union had been made. “I wouldn’t… I’d never…”

Slade’s fingers tighten on his neck. “Wouldn’t you? I already know you lied to them about me. Who knows what others you’ve told in your time here.” He snorts, “A family like this, allowing a landless, penniless alpha like you to mate with the heir to their fortune... They’d never do it otherwise.”

“Bruce isn’t like _you_.” Dick chokes. He hates him. He hates _him_ — almost as much as he hates himself in this moment. “He’s a good alpha. He only cared that I made Jason happy. That we love—”

“Love each other?” Slade laughs, thumb sweeping up under his jaw. “That’s cute.”

“It’s true.” he glares.

“Oh, I have no doubt you believe it. You always were an idealistic whelp, despite my attempts to teach you better.” Slade shakes his head, as if exasperated by his behaviour. “Well, too late now; the boy will be coming with us. Is he carrying yet?”

Dick grits his jaw, “No.”

“Good, that makes it easier. An omega with an uneasy belly is the worst to travel with.”

It’s a long shot, but he still takes the chance. “You don’t have to take him. You could leave him here, with his family.”

“We’re his family now. You made sure of that when you stuck your knot in him.” Slade tells him sharply, as if Dick needs the reminder. He flinches as Slade’s thumb pushes harder into his jaw, “Now we all have to live with the consequences.”

“Please, Slade. Please don’t hurt him...”

“Hurt him? Why would I do that? I have no cause to… yet.”

“Slade, I’m begging you—”

“ _No_. You don’t get to ask me for anything. Not now, and not for a good while yet. You have to earn forgiveness, Grayson, and what you’ve done is going to take a great deal of forgiving.” Slade shoves Dick’s head back down against his thigh. He gulps at the strength of the scent in his nose. “You can start by being quiet. We have some time to wait still, and I need to think.”

He doesn’t say what about, and Dick dares not ask, though he has a good suspicion. All he can do is wait, sure that he’ll find out soon enough.

* * *

Leaving is a torturous affair. Alfred comes to tell them when Jason is ready, and the cold shoulder he gives Dick as they walk out the door into the entrance hall chills him to the bone. Jason is waiting there, with his bags at his feet, dressed warmly for the weather outside and with his travel cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Next to him is not only Bruce, but all his siblings as well.

Dick is forced to endure their eyes on him as they make their farewells and move towards Slade’s carriage. Emotions ranging from confusion, to anger, as well as distress. It hurts worst from Damian, the youngest, who Dick has also become quite close to in his time here.

Slade, meanwhile, is wearing what Dick always thought of as his merchant’s persona, with an easy, charming smile and friendly tone that doesn’t at all fit the situation. Especially since Dick is sure his throat is already starting to bruise from being choked out by him — even if it has a ways yet to go to the more colorful array he’ll end up with later. His shirt collar probably covers the worst of it, but not all. Bruce definitely notices it, as for a moment his gaze lingers on him before turning away.

“I expect letters from my son,” Bruce tells Slade, “When he is settled into your home.”

“I won’t bar him from the materials,” is Slade’s roundabout way of not promising anything. “If he wants to write to you, he can.”

“Good.” Bruce says coolly, with the implication that he sees right through him.

While they go through the formal goodbyes, Dick tries to take the opportunity to step closer to Jason, reaching out to brush their hands together. Before his fingers can connect, though, Jason snatches his own away, hissing, “Don’t touch me,” out of the corner of his mouth.

“Jay, I’m sorry. Please, I’m...” Dick tries to whisper back, but it’s clear from the turn of Jason’s body that he’s ignoring him. A state of affairs that continues as he moves to share one last embrace with his family before reluctantly allowing himself to be escorted to the carriage.

Dick doesn’t begin to fully realize the extent of things until the chill of the wind pulls a shiver from him. He’s not dressed for the current weather like Jason is; all his clothes are still up in their room. His things, everything but what he’d happened to be wearing when Slade showed up, left behind, and judging by the extent of his mate’s anger, he doubts the bags Jason’s carrying contain anything for him.

He deserves it, but that doesn’t make the reality any easier to bear.

At the carriage door, Slade offers Jason a hand up the steps. A gesture Dick learned a while back not to make, as Jason hates such formalities except when the occasion demanded them. He can feel his mate’s confusion, and uncertainty, before with a stiff breath, he forces himself to accept it and steps up inside.

Even that brief touch exchanged between them sets a growl building in the back of Dick’s throat. He forces himself to swallow it down as Slade impatiently nods at him to get in next, before clambering in himself. Jason’s set his bags on the seat next to him in a distinctly defensive and uninviting move, leaving little room to even try to sit, so Dick takes the spot across from him instead.

That of course, means the only place left for Slade is beside _him,_ which he takes after pulling the door shut. Dick presses himself as close to the wall of the carriage as he can get, hearing Slade thump the ceiling to signal to the driver that they’re ready, and just like that, they’re away.

Jason’s head is turned firmly away from both of them, staring through the slight gap in the curtains to the road they’re passing by. His expression is set into something miserable but hard; the steel line to his spine something Dick’s seen a few times before during the course of the time they’ve been together. Jason’s rough around the edges, more aggressive than Dick’s ever seen an omega be before, but underneath it all there’s the bones of the noble that Alfred raised.

A stubborn, uncompromising, refusal to break.

Dick loves that about him, but is deathly afraid of what it could mean for Jason with Slade, who values nothing more than complete obedience. He needs to explain to him, to _warn_ him, but he can’t do that with Slade right next to them, and who knows when they’ll next be able to get a moment alone.

As if reading his thoughts, Slade takes that moment to lean forward, smiling gently at Jason as he observes, “A quiet one, aren’t you? I know this must all have been quite a shock. Are you alright?”

It doesn’t seem as if Jason’s posture could get any stiffer, but somehow he manages it. “I’m fine.” he mutters. “Just peachy, in fact.”

Slade’s tilts his head in understanding, “I want you to know, despite the abrupt way in which we’ve met, I mean you no harm. And will do my best to keep you in the manner to which you’re accustomed when we reach my home.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Jason answers, while in his corner Dick bristles.

It’s a not so subtle reminder that he has no assets of his own; no means by which to support Jason without help. He came to the Wayne estate near empty-handed, and he’s been dragged from it the same way. Slade always forced Dick to have to rely on him for everything, it was one of the many ways in which he established his control, and no doubt that isn’t going to change going forwards.

There has to be a way out of this. Something he can do. Dick can’t beat Slade in a straight up fight, that’s why he’d run in the first place. Using that same strategy will be harder with two of them, though, and he knows Slade will be keeping a very close eye on him for a good while yet.

He just needs to talk to Jason. Talk to him alone. Explain, and get him to listen, no matter what it takes. Once he does, then they can—

Slade is talking again. “I’m sure you must have a great many questions; we can discuss them more later when we reach my lodgings. But for now, I want to apologise.”

“... apologise?” Jason asks, with appropriate caution.

“Yes. For the disturbance.”

It happens quickly. Too quickly. In their time apart, Dick has almost forgotten how swift Slade can be, in a way no one would expect for a man of his size and age. Fingers close like iron around his wrist, and Dick finds himself yanked out of his corner and across the carriage to land on Slade’s lap. He is not sure whether the yelp that sounds in that moment is his or Jason’s. Perhaps both, one echoing after the other.

“Slade!” Dick tries to protest, as an arm holds him tight about the waist, pinning his own down by his side. Slade’s other hand goes to the neck of his shirt, tearing it open with no regard for the buttons. They ping against the floor of the carriage before his alpha’s fingers grasp his hair, using the hole to yank his head down to one side and back. “Damn it, stop!”

“What are you doing?!” Jason’s voice demands. Dick can’t see him with his neck twisted like this, only the wall and ceiling of the carriage, but scent blooms like an ill-fated flower, and he feels himself keen with the urge to go to his mate as much as defend himself. “You’re hurting him!”

“Look away, boy,” Slade says, voice smooth and calm and utterly inappropriate in the face of the panic Dick can feel compressing his lungs. “You know firsthand he can’t be trusted; he’s earned this.”

“Jason,” Dick chokes out, “Jason, please, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, don’t believe—” Before he can go any further, Slade yanks his hair hard enough to cut him off. Hot breath is on his throat, like steam hissing from a kettle, soon followed by teeth.

It _hurts._ Just as much as the first bite Slade gave him did, one sensitive place traded for another. Dick kicks, for all the good it does him, foot striking the door of the carriage, and by some miracle does not scream as his skin is torn open and worried deep enough to break the veins beneath. Blood runs down his neck to the hollow of his throat and then lower, where it soaks into the fine cotton of his shirt.

There is a bright, vivid moment where he is vividly aware of everything that is happening to him. Every sight and every sound. Every feeling. Before instinct digs its terrible claws into his brain and all the fight runs out of him.

Slade continues to hold on, for a minute, or maybe two. Then he releases Dick, from teeth and arms both, allowing him to slide from his lap and fall to the floor. He lands heavily, unable to catch himself in time, and now on his back, Dick looks up in a haze to see Jason’s face, ghost white, staring back down at him.

 _I’m okay_ , he wants to say. _I’m okay. Don’t worry. I’m..._

“I’m going to need your scarf.”

“What?” Jason’s face turns away from him, looking across the carriage to Slade.

“Your scarf, Jason, if you would.”

It’s a good scarf, fine black wool. Better than the purpose for which Slade intends it. Jason’s hands rise, shaking, as if on automatic, loosening the knot from around his neck and slipping it free. The sight of his neck — though still covered by the collar of his jacket — stirs Dick. Omegas (especially noble ones) aren’t supposed to bare their necks for anyone but their mates, and he does not want Slade to get anywhere close to seeing that.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, fingers grazing the top of Jason’s boot. As Slade takes the scarf from him, Jason huddles backwards, pulling his cloak in tighter around his shoulders. Of course Slade notices it, as he notices everything.

“Don’t worry, boy, I won’t hurt you.” He soothes, lowering his voice to a more calming pitch. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Dick feels a hand hook underneath his bicep, hauling him up to a sitting position. He whines before he even thinks about it, cringing back from the touch and curling in on himself. Anything to avoid more punishment from his alpha. He’s not a threat to him, he never has been.

There’s more movement above him. Jason, reaching down, before Slade heads him off. “I’ve got him.” Thick fingers card through Dick’s hair, smoothing over his scalp. He keens to it as his head is brought down to rest against Slade’s thigh. “There we go, that’s better. Good boy, Dick. Now, let me get at this bite.”

He shakes as his head is tilted, just enough for warm wool to be wrapped around his neck and pressed over the still bleeding wound. With it comes something else: the rich, concentrated scent of his mate striking Dick in the gut. He inhales deeply, and that familiar comfort does more to relax him than Slade ever could. Dick wants to go to Jason, wants to hold him, but the hands won’t let him as Slade finishes tying the knot at his neck, then returns to holding Dick’s head against his thigh. All he can do is pull the end of the scarf up against his nose, nuzzling into it for comfort.

“Is he… alright?”

“Never seen him like this before? Didn’t your father ever have to discipline him?”

Presumably, Jason shakes his head. “No, Dick always accepted Bruce’s lead.”

Slade grunts, “It would have happened sooner or later. Dick’s always been a troublemaker.” His hair is tugged lightly. “He’ll be out of it by the time we reach the inn, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” Jason says, a little too sharply.

“Of course not.” Slade replies. “After what he did… well, we can talk about that more later. For now, let’s just enjoy the ride.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings for this chapter include manipulation, alcohol and threats of bodily harm. Read safely, folks. Hope you enjoy!

Dick is not entirely unfamiliar with the inn Slade takes them to. He stayed here once, very briefly when he first came into town, before he went looking for work and ended up at Bruce’s estate. His room then was of much poorer quality than the one Slade leads them to now, though, at the bottom of the building rather than the top. And with just a straw pallet rather than the fine feather beds this one contains.

Two of them to be precise, singles pressed up against either side. A large fireplace occupies one wall, while a window looks outwards across the rooftops of the town. Besides the church, this is the tallest building there is.

Jason stands in the middle of the room after Slade shuts the door, sliding the bolt home to lock it. He’d pulled his hood up over his head when they came inside in an attempt to not be recognised by the people here. A futile effort, all things considered. He’s the son of the local lord, and with Dick — who is widely known to be his mate — stood with his head completely uncovered beside him, the news won’t take long to spread. “We’re sharing? All three of us?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be bringing you back with me today.” Slade answers, taking off his coat and hanging it up beside the door. He seems unconcerned by the arrangement, of course. “So yes, we will be. The cooks are apparently in the midst of making supper; we’ll be able to retrieve some soon enough. I assume you’ll want to dine more privately. I could request a bath too, if you like. We’ve a long road ahead of us from tomorrow, and not every place we stay after this may be so accommodating.”

Jason stiffens at the same time Dick does. “No. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“I’d ask for a screen to be brought as well, of course. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I said it’s fine.” Jason walks to the bed by the window and sits down heavily, folding his arms across his chest. “Everything’s just _fine_.”

“Jay…” Dick swallows. He’s still shaken by what Slade did to him in the carriage, and as well as the bite, his neck has swollen some from the bruising it suffered earlier. His voice comes out as a bare whisper because of it. “Jay, I—”

“I can see you’re still upset.” Slade talks over him, before he can get any further. His hand catches Dick’s arm, squeezing meaningfully to stop him from trying to approach Jason. “Perhaps it’s best we have that talk now. Boy, go wait downstairs and bring us food when it’s ready.”

Dick doesn’t move, which is a triumph of will with Slade’s bite still throbbing on his neck. It makes resisting his commands near impossible. “Slade, please. Please don’t…”

He’s pulled to the door. Slade opens it again to direct him out into the hallway, but not without first leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Calm yourself. As long as you behave and do _exactly_ as I tell you, I won’t hurt your boy. That’s in your hands.” Then louder, “Wine too, Dick. Good wine, nothing off the bottom shelf.”

He grits his teeth, “Yes, alpha.” before the door shuts behind him, leaving him standing out in the cold hallway.

Dick considers staying and trying to listen in for a while, but when he presses his ear to the wood, he can only make out a low, indistinct murmuring — no individual words. And until he has the food, he has no feasible excuse to go back in there that Slade won’t use as a reason to punish either him or Jason.

Taking a bracing breath, he forces himself to step away from the door and head to the stairs. He can only imagine what Slade might tell Jason in the time he’s gone. In what ways he will twist the truth. Sending him away means Dick will have no opportunity to contest anything he says until after the fact, and he can only hope that Jason will take what he hears with a grain of salt, rather than believe Slade outright.

And he will, won’t he? Dick is sure he will. Jason might be angry with him, but he’s not stupid. Far from it as a matter of fact. He’s more intelligent than most ever give him credit for. The way Dick feels about him, everything they’ve shared together since the day they met, has never been a lie, he _has_ to see that.

About halfway down the stairs, Dick is forced to stop, settling his pounding head against the wall. This is a nightmare, one he wishes he could wake up from. Every bad dream he’s ever had since he first ran from Slade brought to life. Why the hell can’t he escape this man?

Ever since he was fourteen, Slade has dominated his life. Picking him up after the deaths of his parents. Training him as his reluctant assistant in his grisly trade. Taking him into his bed and marking him. It’s funny now to think that he’d actually liked the man at first. Had been grateful to him for taking in an orphaned alpha boy — something few would do. But doing harm for a living had never sat well with Dick, and the more Slade forced him to it, the more their relationship had soured. Eventually it had become unbearable, and that was what had finally given him the push he’d needed to leave.

It had taken weeks of planning, waiting for the perfect moment when Slade was away on a job without him. Dick had disguised himself as best he could, taking a little money and a few valuables from the house — just enough to start him on his way (and for that, Slade is surely labelling him a thief right now). He’d changed directions, changed names. Taken a boat up the river. Using every trick he’d ever learned to hide his trail.

It hadn’t been enough. Now here he is once again. Here _they_ are. And somehow he’s got to hold himself together until he can figure a way out of this for Jason at least. If by the end of that he himself is still stuck with Slade… well, he’ll live with that, but he can’t condemn Jason to pay for his mistakes as well.

Resolution reached, Dick forces himself away from the wall to continue down the stairs. It’s louder here, the evening crowd are starting to draw in as the work day finishes. He braces himself for the stares he knows he’s going to accumulate while he waits for the food to be served.

And stare they do. Not obviously of course, but always out of the corner of Dick’s eye. Not just stare either. About twenty minutes into his waiting, he hears the sound of snickering and turns to see a group of young alpha men grinning in his direction. One of them makes a gesture towards his neck and the whole group bursts into ribald laughter.

It’s the scarf, he realises. Keeping it on in here makes him look like an omega.

Dick’s cheeks burn.

He wants to take it off, but knows that revealing the extent of the bruising and bite on his neck would be worse. At least in the past, when Slade made him play the part of an omega, it was around people who didn’t know him, and he was always able to cover up his own scent with flowery perfumes to hide his true designation. Here he has no disguise, and he’s forced to just bear it, like every other indignity he’s suffered today.

It takes another ten minutes for the food to be ready. Dick is handed a tray laden with three bowls of thick stew and bread, as well as the bottle of wine Slade asked for and three stacked cups. It’s a heavy load, but he waves off the offer of the house boy to help him, gritting his teeth and walking carefully back up the flights of stairs to the top of the inn. It’s taken over half an hour for him to get back here, and he has no idea what he might be walking back into.

Unable to knock with his arms full, Dick resorts to kicking the door to signal his return.

“There you are,” Slade says when he opens the door, as if Dick has been dallying about downstairs, rather than aching to get back to Jason as soon as possible. “Bring it in then.”

Dick glares at him, but as soon as he walks inside, he has eyes only for Jason. A quick search about the room finds him in the exact same spot he was when Dick left, sitting on the bed next to the window. He’s taken off his cloak, which is now hung up beside Slade’s coat, and the curtains have been drawn behind him, but otherwise everything seems much the same. Except that is, for the expression on Jason’s face.

He looks less overtly angry and more… lost. Bewildered. And when he lifts his face to look back at Dick, faintly incredulous.

Whatever relief Dick feels at finding him unharmed falls to the wayside when he sees that. He starts to shake his head, but stops that immediately when Slade puts a hand to the small of his back.

Under his guidance, the food is shared out. Slade pushes Dick to sit on the opposite bed while he opens the bottle of wine, pouring himself and Jason a cup each. He offers Dick none, which is unsurprising at this point, and he grits his teeth when Slade sits beside Jason. Still with a respectable distance between them, but beside him nonetheless. Jason stares down at his bowl of stew for a moment, looking about as hungry as Dick feels. Then, with a grimace twisting his lips, he lifts his cup to his mouth and takes a generous swallow of the wine.

It sets a precedent for the entire meal. Out of the three of them, only Slade finishes his food. Dick merely picks at his, while Jason takes a few bites of bread, leaving the stew to cool and congeal as he continues to drink.

“More?” Slade offers, when he notices Jason’s cup is empty.

A nod, and Dick watches uneasily as Slade pours him another cupful, then places the bottle back down on the side table. Jason immediately takes another swallow, and Dick can’t help the words that come out of his mouth, “Jason, maybe you should—”

“Don’t,” Jason hisses across the room at him. “Don’t you talk, Dick. Don’t say one more goddamn word. Not after what you’ve done.”

Dick’s heart clenches in his chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you...” he whispers hoarsely. “Please, Jason. I swear, I didn’t mean to—”

“Well you have!” He snarls suddenly, curling in on himself, hand clenching and shaking around the cup so that the wine threatens to spill over. It’s like a dam bursts in Jason, as he continues to accuse him. “You lied to me, Dick! You _lied_. About who you are. About where you came from.” His other hand curls in the fabric of his trousers as he shakes his head. “I trusted you. I let you… I should have known something was wrong. I should’ve known. And now—”

“Shh,” Slade cuts in, casting a meaningful look at Dick across the room that stalls him from saying anything to deny Jason’s accusations. One hand touches his mate’s wrist to steady it, while the other comes to rest on his shoulder. “Easy. Easy, it’s all right.”

“It’s not all _right_.” Jason inhales sharply, shaking his head, “None of this is… none of…”

“I know.” Slade says, voice patently sympathetic. “But take a deep breath, have another drink; it will steady your nerves.”

Dick has to dig his fingers into the mattress to stay where he is. Jason swallows thickly at Slade’s words, before finally nodding. He inhales deeply, breathes out, then takes a long drink from his cup.

Slade immediately moves to refill it. “Better?”

“A little.” Jason admits, turning his head to look down. His cheeks are becoming flushed even as he fights to rein himself in. He always has been a lightweight, “I’m… sorry for my outburst.”

“It’s fine.” Slade waves a hand dismissively. “You’ve had a bad shock, and I know I’ve played my part in it by having to pull from your home so suddenly. If it hadn’t taken so long to find Dick already I could’ve allowed more time but…” He sighs. “A fine omega like yourself doesn’t deserve this.”

Jason snorts softly, but doesn’t contradict him.

“Perhaps I should tell you a little about where we’re going, it might reassure you.”

Jason shrugs bitterly, “Couldn’t hurt.”

If Dick had offered him such a taciturn answer, Slade wouldn’t be nearly so tolerant with him as he is being with Jason. It’s all so blatantly calculated. Every word he says, measured. But only to someone who knows him, like Dick. To Jason he must seem perfectly genuine, another victim of the ungrateful boy he’d taken in.

Through gritted teeth, he listens as Slade describes to Jason his home. A house Dick remembers well, even if he’d spent comparatively less time in it than he had travelling around the country with Slade on various ‘jobs’. Located roughly three week’s travel from here by the most direct route (which Dick had not taken during his flight), it sits in the southern countryside, relatively isolated from the nearby townships by surrounding farmland which Slade rents out to smallholders. By doing so, he provides himself a steady income underneath that of his other business, which largely goes straight to the upkeep of the house and small staff that maintain it during his frequent absences. The house itself is built of red brick, more modern than many old manor houses, with stables and a sprawling garden.

Slade doesn’t mention the wall that surrounds the entire place, all trees carefully trimmed back to provide no opportunity to climb it. He doesn’t mention the locked gate either. The image he paints is picturesque, beautiful; nothing more than a dream. But a believable dream, especially to someone feeling freshly betrayed and torn from their home.

Jason continues to drink as he talks, cheeks growing steadily redder even as his hand stops trembling. “Sounds idyllic.”

“It is. I wish I could spend more time there.”

“Your work keeps you busy?”

“Often, but with you and Dick coming home…” Here Slade smiles indulgently, “It’ll be a welcome excuse to take a break for a while.”

“You must have lost enough business tracking Dick down already, you don’t have to do that on my account.” Jason says, looking aside.

“It’s my duty as alpha to make sure you get settled in properly, and that you’re comfortable.” Slade shakes his head. “Besides, I think it will be good for all of us to spend some quality time together, now that we’re pack.” He lifts his hand, placing it again on Jason’s shoulder.

Jason’s eyes turn to him, while Dick clenches his own hands tight enough that the knuckles go white. “The four weeks of travel won’t be enough for that?”

“It’s not exactly what I have in mind, no.” Slade chuckles. “Travel is stressful for everyone. I think I have a better chance of actually getting to know you when you’re relaxed; settled in your new den.”

Jason blinks. Dick aches for him to push Slade’s hand away, but instead he just looks down and drains the rest of the wine remaining in his cup. It’s the third he’s had tonight, and Slade hasn’t even finished his first yet. Dick’s never known him to drink like this before. “My den?”

“You’ll be the only omega of the household, I’d say that makes it yours.” His fingers brush higher along Jason’s shoulder, smoothing across the fabric of his jacket towards his neck. “Don’t you think?”

He swallows, nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

Slade echoes his nod, “Good, despite how all this has come about… I think I’ll be glad to have you around, Jason. You seem sensible, intelligent. I can’t fault Dick’s taste, no matter what else he’s done.”

Jason never quite knows how to handle compliments. Dick had learned that to his great delight during their courtship, often teasing him just to watch as he grew flustered. This time his blush gives him no pleasure, though, just a twisting sense of impending disaster. He wants to scream out a warning, but knowing what Slade will do if he does locks his tongue into place.

Eventually, Jason recovers, reacting by shaking his head and laughing a little. He moves on to another behaviour Dick knows well from him: bitter self-deprecation, “I can maybe fault my own.”

That hurts like a dagger slid between his ribs.

“Jason…”

Slade sighs as he talks over him. “No, no you’re not to blame, kid. If anyone is, I am.” he moves his hand up, stroking the side of Jason’s face. “I tried my best with Dick, but…” he turns his head to look at him, staying Dick as he begins to rise from the bed, jaw clenched, “I guess some people just can’t be taught. I’m sorry for it, and for what I have to ask of you next.”

“What?” Jason blinks, “What do you need to ask me?” He leans back a little, but not enough to pull entirely free of Slade’s touch.

“We’re pack now, you and I. It’s important that I cement that here and now — particularly as we’re going to be travelling. To protect you on the road.” Slade dips his head.

“You want to…”

“Scent mark you, yes.” He nods. “I understand if that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

Jason reaches up self-consciously, touching his throat. “Just scent?”

“I won’t leave anything permanent.” Slade promises, “Dick is your mate, not me.”

At that, Jason’s gaze goes to him. Dick meets it, trying to communicate through his eyes alone the need for Jason to say no, to refuse. _Willing_ him to it. But instead his pleading look seems to have the opposite effect. Jason’s expression hardens, and his jaw sets.

“Then it’s fine. Do what you have to do.”

“Thank you.” Slade smiles, fingers lingering on Jason’s cheek. Then they move down to his throat, his collar. “Skin to skin will be best. Otherwise it’ll be lost the next time you change clothes. Do you mind if I…?”

Dick can’t quite help the pleading sound that comes from his throat, even weak as it is. Jason startles, and over his head Slade flashes him a sharp look.

“Maybe it would be better if Dick and I gave you a bit of privacy,” Slade inserts, smooth as anything. By the time Jason looks up at him, the sharpness to his gaze has been replaced with something sincere and gentle and utterly fake. “You can use the blanket to cover anything you’re not comfortable with; I understand this is difficult.”

Before Jason can respond, Slade stands up. In three long strides, he’s across the room, grabbing Dick by his elbow and forcing him to stand as well. He tries to dig his heels in as he’s dragged towards the door, but Slade’s hold is inexorable, pulling him until he stumbles over the threshold and into the hallway beyond. Dick hears the door latch click shut; it’s all the warning he gets before there are teeth snapping in his face.

He recoils, and Slade follows him, forcing Dick to backpedal all the way down the hall to the window at the end of it. The small of his back smacks into the windowsill, sending pain bouncing up his spine. Dick manages a snarl, raising his arms in self-defence. It’s short lived as Slade cuffs him about the head, then uses the moment of disorientation to whirl him around and press down over his back.

“Fuck!” Dick curses. He tries to push back against the windowsill, but Slade is heavy, and when he growls the sound comes right next to Dick’s ear, freezing him long enough for fingers to push in against his throat, through the scarf and directly over the stinging bite wound from earlier.

Every muscle in his body goes rigid. The pain is sharp and intense as Slade digs his fingers in deeper, forcing him to remain still.

“Let’s get some things clear now, boy, before this goes any further. I’m the one in charge here, not you. Whatever I decide will happen, happens, and you _will_ go along with it.”

Dick pants, his breath fogging up against the window. “You can’t… he’s my mate… you can’t…”

“Can’t?” Slade repeats, low and dangerous. “You don’t get to tell me what I _can’t_ do. He’s yours, so he’s mine, and even if I have to sink my teeth into every damn inch of you, you will accept that and _behave_.”

“You’re going to hurt him!” Dick accuses.

Teeth snap next to his ear, causing him to flinch. “And if I do, it’ll be your fault. You brought him into this, not me. Remember that.” Slade turns his head, and this time Dick shudders as hot breath rushes across his scent gland. “I don’t _care_ about him, kid. I’m sure he’ll be wet and warm and everything else omegas are good for, but the only reason he matters to me is that he’s going to make you toe the line.” The thick growl that Slade lets loose then shakes him down to his bones, pulls a small whine from his throat even through the worry and the fear for Jason. “You should make _damn_ sure your boy continues to matter, Grayson, because if he’s not doing what I’m keeping him for, he’s nothing more than a parasite you brought into my home.”

Dick chokes at the blatant threat. He knows Slade means it. In all their long history, Slade has never not made good on a threat. The things Dick has seen him do… the things he knows he’s capable of…

He can’t let that happen to Jason. He _can’t_.

There’s only one choice.

“I’ll obey.” he whispers, swallows hard. “I… I’ll do whatever you say, just don’t…”

“That’s not good enough, boy. You don’t complain, you don’t resist, you don’t say a word or make a sound to disagree again, or he pays for it. Is that clear?”

“Slade—”

“Is. That. Clear?”

Dick jerks as more pressure is exerted on his neck. Under the scarf, he’s sure he’s bleeding again. “Yes,” he answers finally, “it’s clear.”

“Better.” Slade says. Dick shudders as he sniffs at his hair, inhaling deeply. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen; we’re going to walk back into that room together, and you are going to sit down on the bed exactly where you were until I tell you to do otherwise.” He steps back, pulling Dick with him. “Come on.”

This time, Slade doesn’t have to force him down the corridor. Dick follows at his heels, quiet and obedient and morose with the hangman’s noose of the threat hanging around Jason’s neck. At the door, Slade lifts his hand, knocking with delicate precision to signal their return, and there’s no sound of protest that Dick can hear as he twists open the door handle, leading the way inside with a lie ready on his lips.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, we got caught up talking outside.”

Jason looks over at them from the bed near the window. The blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, still mostly covering his neck. For a moment, Dick is struck by the sight of him. Beautiful, pale, quiet; oddly vulnerable, like an omega in a painting. Memories of all the nights they’ve ever shared together rise to the forefront of his mind as he notes that Jason seems more tense now than he was when they left him, like the wait has given him the chance to reconsider what exactly it is he’s agreed to.

Dick prays that’s the case.

“It’s fine,” Jason eventually mutters, dashing his hopes. “It’s not as if I’m going anywhere, right? At least not tonight.”

“No,” Slade agrees readily, “Not tonight.” He steps towards Jason, while Dick — remembering Slade’s words — forces himself to move on leaden feet to the other bed. As if nothing happened, they settle themselves into the exact same positions they were in before. Dick tries to remember to breathe as he watches Slade lift his hand to touch Jason’s back, his fingers brushing aside the hair at the base of his neck. “Comfortable?”

“As I can be.” Jason shrugs, turning his head to look away from him.

Slade hums a moment, then reaches down, picking up the wine bottle and again refilling his cup. “Here,” When he pushes the vessel into his hand, Jason’s fingers clutch tight around it. “I just want you to know, I really do appreciate your understanding of the situation, and I promise to be as gentle as I can with this.”

Jason snorts derisively, most likely to cover the nerves he's clearly feeling. “I’m not some delicate sheltered flower with no knowledge of the world. Just get on with it, I’ll be fine.”

Dick can’t tell if the amusement on Slade’s face is real or not. He doesn’t know if he wants it to be; if the idea of Slade finding Jason’s particular brand of independence charming is better than him being annoyed by it. But before he can give the thought further examination, he’s distracted by Slade leaning in closer to Jason, inhaling next to his scent gland. “I can tell,” he says. The rush of air from his words brushes over sensitive skin, causing Jason to shiver. “I meant no insult.”

Cheeks flushing red, Jason shakes his head. “It’s fine. I just…” he swallows, then lifts the wine cup to his lips, taking another long draught. “I’d rather this not be drawn out.”

“As you wish,” Slade calmly says.

With the hand not at Jason’s back, he catches the edge of the blanket and tugs it open around Jason’s throat. Dick’s fingers dig into the edge of the mattress under him at the reveal of his mate’s bare skin; more so at the exposure of the scar that sits at the juncture of Jason’s neck and shoulder. His mating mark. Dick had given it to him on their first night together, and he remembers every detail of that moment: the thick scent of Jason hovering on the edge of heat, flower petals still in his hair from their mating ceremony earlier that day. How he’d gasped and whined as Dick’s teeth dug into his neck, trying to be gentle even as he broke skin.

It’s wrong for Slade to see it. Taboo, as much as he’s Dick’s alpha. If it weren’t for the bite still throbbing on his own neck, Dick thinks he would have leapt forward to attack him by now, regardless of his own chances of winning and Slade’s threats. As it is, he can only sit, tormented by his own helplessness to act.

The tension in Jason’s shoulders doesn’t ease. In fact it only grows worse. His eyes are very firmly fixed on the fireplace as Slade brushes his thumb over the bite, examining it before leaning back a little. “Stay still.” he orders, lifting both hands to frame the base of Jason’s neck, then digs his fingers in.

Jason’s startled gasp cuts across the room.

“What…” he shudders as Slade massages the tense muscles of his shoulders, and echoing Dick’s confusion in his next question. “What are you doing?”

“Scent marking you, as I said,” Slade chuckles, “You don’t approve of this method?”

“No. No, I mean…” Jason doesn’t seem to know how to react, except to bite down on a warm sound as Slade shifts back to a better position behind him. “It’s not...” he bows his head forward as Slade presses his fingers deeper. “ _Ah_. Not… not bad.”

“Good,” Slade says approvingly, “Now, just relax, and enjoy.” Turning his head, Slade looks over and smirks at Dick, “Boy, we’re out of wine. Go downstairs and get us another bottle, would you?”

Framing it as a request is nothing more than window dressing. Forcing himself to release his death grip on the mattress, Dick climbs stiffly to his feet. “Yes, alpha.” The words taste like ashes in his mouth as he heads for the door.

“Don’t dawdle now,” comes Slade’s last pointed comment before he steps beyond earshot, “We’ll be waiting.”

Yes, Dick thinks, heart twisting in his chest. He’s sure he will.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! More warnings abound for this chapter. But as they're a little more spoilery than the last, we've put them in the bottom notes so those who'd like to go in blind can do so. If you'd rather be warned, please jump down to the bottom of the chapter before reading on.

Ordering a bottle of wine is a lot quicker than waiting for food to be cooked. This time, Dick makes it back up to the room in less than ten minutes and with a lot less opportunity for people to stare at him.

Part of him doesn’t know why he’s hurrying, when returning to Slade and Jason will only put him in a position to endure more subtle torment. The other, larger part, reasons that if Slade told him to hurry, he should hurry, lest he take Dick dragging his feet as an excuse to harm Jason as well.

He still pauses outside the door, poised on the balls of his feet like a child as he leans in to listen with morbid interest through the wood. For a moment, there’s nothing, then the deep rumble of Slade’s voice filters through. It frustrates Dick that he can’t make out any individual words, just the sound.

Would it actually help to know what Slade was saying before he goes in there? Probably not. If there was one valuable lesson the man had taught him, though, it was to always be prepared.

Then a low, familiar moan permeates the door, making his gut clench, and before Dick knows it he’s twisted open the handle and burst through.

The scene he finds inside is not so bad as the one his imagination conjured, but that’s not saying much. Slade has shifted around Jason, sitting more directly behind him with his legs spread to frame the omega’s hips. Jason himself has bent forward, bowed over his own lap as Slade’s hands knead down the lower muscles of his back — the evident cause of his moan. Dick feels his throat close up at the sight.

“About time,” Slade says, as if Dick has been gone for hours, not minutes. “Well, don’t just stand there, boy; close the door and fetch it over here.”

Dick has to breathe a moment first, to steady his pounding heartbeat, before he can do that. He walks over with the bottle of wine to Slade like a man approaching the executioner’s block, jaw clenching ever tighter as his view of his mate’s flushed face (and once again empty cup) improves. It’s not just his face, but his scent too. It’s changed in the time Dick’s been gone, turned warmer, less sour and more relaxed. Lulled, he’s sure, by both the wine and the massage. From uncomfortable experience, Dick knows just how good Slade can be with his hands when he’s in a giving mood; how expertly he knows how to manipulate the human body, as well as the mind.

The bottle is plucked from his hand with no sign of a thank you, not that Dick ever expected one. Nor does he expect the soft whine from Jason’s throat as Slade pauses in his ministrations for a moment, or the embarrassed twitch of his shoulders when he realises what it is he’s done.

Without thinking, Dick reaches towards him, wanting to brush his knuckles through Jason’s hair and sooth him back down. Strong fingers wrap around his wrist before he can, though, twisting his hand back as Slade gives him a pointed look. “Not bad, Dick,” he says loudly, examining the label on the bottle. “I see you at least remembered how to pick a good wine out of all the lessons I taught you.”

“I remember everything you taught me,” Dick replies, matching that look with a strained glare. “ _Everything_.”

Slade smiles, “See that you do.” He releases him, allowing Dick to retreat a few steps back across the room. “Jason, more wine?”

“I…” Jason sounds more dazed than anything. He reaches up to brush the hair back from his face himself, and the blanket falls down to expose the entirety of one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

Slade chuckles. “In my experience, that means yes.” He moves his free hand back to Jason’s neck, curling his fingers around the base of it and using that grip to pull him back up from his bowed over position.

Jason doesn’t fight it, straightening his back with a low groan. The motion also brings his head up, so that his eyes land directly on Dick where he stands in front of them. For a moment, the dazed look in his eyes lingers, then he blinks, and his expression hardens. With a flinch (as if looking at Dick right now is simply too painful for him), Jason turns his face and body away. And whether by purpose or not, ends up leaning into Slade.

As if startled, Slade puts his arm around him, drawing Jason closer. “Steady,” he says, still with that same fake gentleness, “Dick, get back over to that bed. Can’t you see you’re upsetting him?”

“I’m sorry,” Dick apologises, with genuine emotion even as he backs away further. Walking until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he half-sits, half-falls, down onto it. “Jason, I—”

“I’m fine,” Jason mutters defensively. “I’m not upset.” His hand lands on Slade’s chest as he clumsily attempts to push himself free of him before giving in and slumping down. The edges of his words are obviously slurred now. “I’m not… I’m _angry_ , that’s what I am. Not upset. Not upset one bit.”

“It’s all right,” He lifts his head at the words. Slade sets down the wine bottle and uses his newly freed hand to run his thumb down Jason’s jawline, before pushing up almost under his ear. “I understand.” He turns his eye to Dick. “He betrayed me too.”

It’s a purposefully hard choice of words, and Jason swallows equally hard because of it, “Yeah. I guess he did, didn’t he?” he bitterly says.

Slade looks down at him, causing their eyes to meet. What happens next, Dick sees coming from a mile away, and if Jason were sober surely he would not fall for it. As it is, he’s drunk himself into a violent stupor, ready to lash back out at the one he perceives as having wounded him in any way he can.

Slade brushes his thumb back through Jason’s hair, ‘accidentally’ catching the edge of his scent gland with the pad of it, and all at once Jason shudders, mouth falling open and head dropping back beneath the beckoning of instinct. Barely a second later, as if caught up in its throes himself, Slade ducks his head down to sniff at the offered expanse of Jason’s throat, before quickly pulling back, as if startled by what he’s caught himself doing.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” Jason says breathily. He sounds and looks partially hazed. The laugh he utters is harsh, and acrid. “You’re _his_ alpha, after all. That makes you mine too, doesn’t it?”

Slade looks at him for a long minute. “Yes,” he eventually says, “I suppose it does.”

This time the sweep of his thumb over Jason’s scent gland is obviously purposeful. A harsh gasp follows from Jason’s lips, openly surprised as if he didn’t actually expect Slade to actually go through with it, and Dick has to clutch his hands together to stop them from shaking. Bite his tongue to keep from growling or yelling out.

This is it, he knows. Slade has gotten Jason to give him an inch, and now he’ll take a mile.

Dick wishes he could look away as Slade presses his mouth over Jason’s throat, an edge of teeth raking across his skin. But he can’t. He’s hypnotised by every aspect of it; the way Jason’s fingers clutch at Slade’s shirt, his entire body arching forwards. The way his lips part, and his face blooms red, like every drop of blood in him has suddenly flooded to his cheeks. The blanket falls completely to the floor, forgotten as Slade’s hand slides down Jason’s back and then round to press against his thigh.

“Slade—” Jason starts to say, maybe to protest, only to be quickly cut off.

“Shh,” Slade murmurs, “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

This time, Jason chokes a little, fingers twisting deeper into his shirt. “Don’t,” he whispers, eyes staying downcast. “You don’t have to...”

Slade stills, tilting his head like he doesn’t understand what Jason’s saying. Another lie. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t…” Jason swallows, the way he ducks his head caught somewhere between shame and desire, need and heartbreak. “Don’t want _gentle_.”

The pause in the air is thick with anticipation, whether Jason realises it not. “Are you sure?”

Jason manages not to look at Dick. Still, the confirmation is meant for him, as he is all too present in the room and a witness to what’s about to happen; they both know it. This is a message. Is Jason striking back at him for the perceived wound, and it’s also something worse than that.

Jason’s penchant for self-hatred is something Dick’s borne witness to only rarely before now. Living happily with Bruce, he was far less subject to the black moods Tim once told him overtook Jason more often when he was younger. But with the right circumstances, the right triggers, that terrible trait can come roaring back to life.

Like now, as Jason raises his head to look Slade square in the eye and nods. “I’m sure. I want… make me _feel_ it.” He swallows.

“Oh, Jason,” Slade smirks. “For a lovely omega like you, I can do anything.”

Reaching back over, Slade picks up the bottle of wine again. He pops the cork with easy strength, before lifting the neck of the bottle to his lips and taking a swig. Then, to Dick’s ever growing dismay, he presses it to Jason’s mouth, tilting the bottle up without any question so his mate has no choice but to drink. Even so, some of the wine still spills out and over from his mouth, running down his chin and dripping onto his chest.

One more dose to make sure he won’t come to his senses, Dick thinks furiously, biting on his tongue to keep himself quiet and still.

Jason coughs when Slade takes it away, blinking wetly. With one hand, he shakily wipes at his lips, then starts as Slade catches it by the wrist, only to bend down and begin licking the stray drops of wine from his skin. With long rough drags of his tongue, he moves from Jason’s hand to the top of his chest, then his neck, before following the trail of wine all the way back up to his mouth.

“Oh,” Jason gasps quietly, a second before Slade cuts him off from making any other sound by seizing his lips in a deep, hard kiss while Dick watches helplessly from the sidelines. Hand sliding to the back of his neck, Slade pries open Jason’s mouth with his tongue and sweeps it inside. Jason whines softly into the kiss, fingers pulling harder at Slade’s shirt as if to hold himself steady, lest he fall.

As if Slade would ever allow that to happen.

A twist and a shove has Jason on his back on the bed, followed by Slade as he leans over him, eye greedily roaming down the length of his body. Jason is already panting, flushed against the light sheets as his hands self-consciously grip the bedding.

“Beautiful,” Slade hums, as he runs his hand down Jason’s side. “I’m amazed Dick didn’t mark every inch of your body when he took you. That’s what I would have done, were you my mate.”

He punctuates the words by pinching Jason’s nipple, startling a sharp gasp from his throat.

“Then again,” Slade says in a darker tone of voice, growl rumbling deep in his chest, “it’s probably best you’re not my mate. I never would have let another alpha touch you.”

Jason flinches on the bed, while Dick burns with the humiliation, and before either of them have time to recover from those words, Slade’s mouth is again at Jason’s throat. Lips, tongue and teeth working at his skin in equal measure. This time, Jason’s cry tapers off into an unsteady moan, and while the marks Slade leaves in his wake aren’t permanent, they are meant to last. Dark blooms that will linger across the next week as a painful reminder of everything that happens here tonight.

Moving upwards, Slade soon turns his attention to the scent glands behind Jason’s ears. He buries his face there, tongue lapping mercilessly at ultrasensitive flesh, and when Jason bucks up underneath him Slade takes the opportunity to slide one hand between his thighs. The dual assault has Jason writhing, whimpering, head arching back against the mattress. He pants, moans, and Dick can’t help but keen towards those sounds, so familiar and before made only for him.

It’s with no small amount of horror that he feels the faintest stirring in his gut because of them. As well as the scent. His mate’s scent, aroused and needy. It calls to him, as does Slade’s, conditioned after years of being pinned down while the alpha took his pleasure of him.

Gritting his teeth, Dick does his best to push the feeling away.

On the other bed, Slade isn’t slowing in his advances. He has Jason’s trousers open now, is working them down his hips. Jason is shaking a little, breathing hard. He’s not touching back, Dick notices, but he’s also not pulling away either. Not even when Slade bites his shoulder with more than a little unnecessary force.

“Roll over,” he growls, once he has Jason naked, hands trailing down the omega’s chest before digging his nails into the skin of his waist. “On your front.”

“Slade…” Jason whines, sounding shaken. “I…”

When he doesn’t immediately move, Slade takes steps to do it for him, using his grip on Jason’s body to flip him over. Jason makes a weak, startled sound because of it, cheeks burning an ever brighter shade of red. Dick never had the strength to manhandle him so easily, and (judging by the way he shudders) at least part of Jason likes it. The instinctive part only, Dick hopes, tasting blood on his tongue as he clamps his teeth down on the inside of his cheek to keep from growling.

“There now,” Slade soothes, smirking now that Jason can’t see him. “This what you want, isn’t it? Someone to take you properly…” he pulls Jason’s hips up, forcing him into a presenting arch. “Not treat you like glass.”

Jason tries to push himself up on his hands, but a casual exertion of strength on Slade’s part stops him. He squirms, fingers digging into the mattress as Slade leans down to kiss at the back of his neck, nosing aside the curls of his hair. Jason turns his head, trying to look back at him, and bites his lip when his gaze catches on Dick, “W-wait, I…”

“Hm? What is it?” Slade leans back just a little. He brings his hand forwards, stroking down the side of Jason’s cheek before looking in the same direction. His eyes narrow as they focus on Dick, “Is he making you uncomfortable? Don’t worry, I’ll fix that. Boy,”

Dick doesn’t think that’s what Jason meant at all, but Slade overrides him. Doesn’t give him room to protest. He keeps his eyes on Jason, teeth gritted as he snarls, “Yes, alpha?”

Slade’s expression darkens at his tone. Dick is forced to swallow as he sees a glint of metal at the back of Jason’s neck; a small knife, effortlessly slid out of where it was hidden in Slade’s sleeve. “Turn around. Face the wall.”

As much as he doesn’t want to watch what’s going to happen at all, Dick finds he wants to look away even less. Impotent as he is to interfere, he wants to witness it. Needs to know what’s happening to his mate, and absorb the blame for his part in it head on, “Slade, I...” but an inching of the knife closer to Jason’s skin stops him. He swallows thickly.

No choice. No choice at all.

“I love you.” He tells Jason, skirting as close as he can to what Slade might count as a ‘protest’ before doing as he’s told, swivelling around on the bed and focusing his eyes not on the wall but on his lap.

“Di—” He hears his name start to be said, but then it’s cut off by a sharp gasp.

From there on, all Dick can do is listen.

Listen to the creak of the mattress. Listen to the sound of bitten-off cries and stuttering moans. The whimpers and broken whines from Jason’s throat; the low growls from Slade’s. Flesh hitting flesh, lewd and wet. Cloth rustling, creaks growing ever more frequent as the pace quickens. Against his will, Dick begins to picture it. Begins to picture _them,_ together. The images in his mind made all the more vivid by the recollections of mismatched memory and worsened by scent. Alpha musk, heavy and oppressing. Rich omega, thicker and sweeter in the air. They mingle together until his head starts to spin, and Dick bites his lip bloody as he buries his hands in his hair, yanking at it in an attempt to not let his body react or utter any traitorous noise that might give him away. The pain helps, but not by much.

Behind him, things reach a crescendo. Jason’s voice raised in a familiar cry of release, then sudden quiet except for the sound of harsh breathing.

Footsteps.

Dick starts to twist around, but too slow. A hand grabs him by the throat, forcing him to bend back as Slade presses the other across his face. Dick inhales by reflex, grabbing at Slade’s arm, and can’t help the resultant groan, or the sharp bolt of lust that snakes its way down through his stomach to his groin.

“Like that, pet?” Slade asks, smirking down at him. “I’m afraid your pretty mate passed out on me. Couldn’t handle his wine, I guess, but I thought you’d still like a taste.”

Belatedly, Dick realises Slade’s palm is wet against his mouth. It’s not just scent he’s picking up, it’s _slick_. Jason’s slick. Slade’s fingers are coated in it, and before he can even think to stop himself Dick is darting his tongue out to lick them clean. It’s too strong, too _familiar._ Both his body and his instincts are betraying him as he reacts to it.

Slade chuckles, pushing his thumb inside Dick’s mouth, pushing down against his tongue. “Good boy,” he says. “Just as sweet as I remember you.”

He pants a little when Slade withdraws it, shuddering as he feels him press up against his back. “You didn’t…”

“Knot him? No, not this time.” Lips press against his ear, before Slade turns his head to nuzzle against Dick’s scent gland. “He was a pleasant enough distraction, but it’s been too long since I last had you.”

Dick’s stomach seizes. “S-Slade…” he wants to growl, but the sound just won’t come. Instead he whines, pleading for he’s not sure what. Release from this horror. From the torment of his dragged out punishment. Or maybe… just maybe, there’s a dark part of him lingering at the back of his mind that really did miss this. Missed what Slade could do to him and wants what’s coming.

_No._ He recoils violently from the thought as Slade starts to pull the scarf away from his neck. The stinging pain of fabric being pulled from the still raw bite on his neck helps to give him back some clarity. That’s just the familiarity talking. It’d be so easy to sink back into the past, but he has to fight it. Has to remember why he ran in the first place.

“I hate you,” Dick chokes out, even as he allows Slade to push him down onto his back.

“I don’t care; you’re still mine.”

He’s hard, and it’s impossible not to feel an illicit rush of lust as Slade climbs over him, grasping his legs and forcing them to the side. Slade himself is still mostly dressed as he begins to strip him, unbuttoning Dick’s shirt and trousers before yanking the latter off and dropping them on the floor; Dick would be a fool not to recognise the power dynamic displayed in that as well. He shivers as Slade’s hands run over his body, covetous and possessive in every touch. The kiss when it comes is hard and deep. Dick tries not to respond, but can’t quite help the way his lips part on automatic, allowing Slade’s tongue to sweep forward into his mouth.

He tastes like Jason.

Rough fingers grasp his cock, stroking it, and when Dick moans it’s impossible to deny his attraction. He knows this like he knows the back of his hand. Slade’s weight, overbearing; his scent all around him, dominant and impossible to resist. The press of his shoulders flat against the bed, his waist twisted—

No. Wait. “Wha… what’re you…”

Slade nips at his neck, just below the bite mark. “As much as I’d love to fuck you properly, preparing you adequately would take too much time. For now, this will do instead.”

Dick jolts as Slade slides his cock between his thighs, pressing them together to create a tight sheath for himself. It feels strange, though not that unusual now he knows what’s going on. They’ve done this before, but not quite in the same position. Dick reaches up, grasping at Slade’s shoulder with one hand. The other is pinned beneath his bent legs in a way that would make it difficult for him to fight even if he could gather the strength to do so.

Slade begins to thrust, one hand remaining on Dick’s chest, holding him in place, the other running over his legs and back to grasp his cock again. Dick feels like his head is spinning, for a moment not sure where (or when) he is. Slade seems bigger, or maybe Dick just feels smaller, like he’s the naive kid this first happened to rather than the man he is now.

It had been better then, not knowing what Slade was. Dick had practically thrived under his attention. Needed it like he needed air. Sex was just another layer on top of that, until gradually it wasn’t.

Distantly, he’s aware of Slade speeding up, the tension gathering in the pit of his stomach as his body rocks with every thrust. It must feel good because he’s moaning, even if the sound doesn’t feel like it’s coming from his own lips.

The hand Slade has on his chest moves to his throat, thumb pushing down into the bite. Something in Dick snaps when he comes, a roaring white out of sensation that blows everything else away, allowing him to retreat back inside his head as Slade chases his own release.

He doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be—

Dick blinks as fingers graze his chin. There’s an unpleasant stickiness on his stomach, between his thighs. He looks up to see Slade watching him, eye narrowed before he bends down to nip at Dick’s jaw. Another bite lower on his neck stings enough to almost break through his haze, and Slade draws back away from him with a satisfied smile.

“I almost forgot how good you look like this,” he says quietly, “How beautiful. I’d love to stay and savour the moment but…” His eye slides to the side, looking at the other bed. “Well, I wouldn’t want Jason to think ill of me now, would I?”

Dick whines softly, but that’s all he can do as Slade rolls him onto his side and draws the bed’s blanket up over him, tucking it around his shoulders in a deceptively tender way. The position grants him the perfect view to watch as Slade finally undresses, removing his shirt and pants before climbing back in beside Jason. Slade arranges himself comfortably against his mate’s back before looking back over at him.

“Get some sleep, pet. You’re going to need it for the morning, we have a long road ahead of us.”

There’s no strength left in him to resist even that command. Or more accurately, no will. Dick closes his eyes, sinking gratefully into oblivion, and at least for now an escape from the horror of his reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: In this chapter the tags of sexual coercion, non-con and consent issues come fully into effect. Manipulation of emotional and physical triggers, as well as alcohol, are used to gain sex from a character who otherwise would not have consented, while another disassociates during a following non-consensual encounter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific chapter warning at the end as always, guys. Here's the morning after the night before for Jason, hope you enjoy this one!

Opening his eyes is a mistake.

Jason recoils away from the brilliance of the daylight infiltrating their bedroom, pressing his face instead to the mattress beneath him with an ugly groan. His head is pounding like someone took a hammer to it, and Dick’s weight on top of him, normally a warm reassurance, is instead an uncomfortable restraint as it crushes his chest and limits his ability to breath.

Damn, what did he do last night?

Flailing a hand behind him, Jason pushes at his mate, muttering, “Ge’roff, Dick,” but to no avail. The arm over his waist simply tightens, and that’s about when he realises something is very, very wrong.

That arm is too thick with muscle to be Dick’s. The body weighing on his far too big. Jason inhales, and freezes when the scent that fills his nose is nothing like the sweet-sharp tang he’s used to. It’s heavy, thick like wood smoke, and with a threatening metallic edge. Unfamiliar, but — as the events of the previous day come stuttering back in bits and pieces to him — not completely unknown either.

Oh christ.

“Jason?” Slade’s voice rumbles next to his ear. “Are you alright?”

A good question. Jason swallows thickly, shifting under him, and that motion brings with it another startling realisation: Slade is still in him. He’s still—

“I… I think I’m going to throw up.”

A broad hand runs through his hair. Part of Jason relaxes instantly, soothed by instinct, but the roiling in his stomach is not so easily quelled. He gives an aborted heave, which apparently convinces Slade he meant what he said because he sits up and back, sliding out of Jason’s body before pulling him up to sit as well. “Boy, grab the chamberpot.”

Jason’s head spins, wondering who Slade’s talking to, but then there’s a bowl in front of his face and he gladly gives in to the nausea, vomiting inside it. There’s very little substance to what he brings up; it tastes mostly like bile. When he’s done, Jason brings a shaky hand up to his face to wipe his mouth, only to find Slade’s already there with a cloth doing it for him.

“Easy,” he says gently, “I think you may have drank a little too much last night.”

Jason avoids a sarcastic response only because he’s too busy being stunned by the realisation of what happened the previous evening. What _he_ did. Invited. He… He raises his head, thoughts still spinning, and swallows hard when he realised that it’s Dick knelt in front of him, holding the bowl of course. Jason recoils, expecting anger in his mate’s eyes, but then stops when instead he finds only a strange, unfamiliar blankness, of the kind he’s never seen on Dick’s face before. As if all the emotion has been driven out of him, leaving only apathy in its place.

“Dick…” he croaks out, not knowing what else to say, and for a moment that empty cloud seems to clear from Dick’s eyes, only to reappear again when Slade leans forward into Jason’s field of view, offering him a cup of water.

“Drink this,” he orders.

Jason takes it, raising the cup to his lips with a shaky hand and taking a grateful sip. In that moment, Dick turns away from him. “I’ll put this outside for the house boy to collect,” he says quietly, and heads for the door.

He’s wearing a new shirt, Jason realises, one that’s almost comically too big for him. It must be one of Slade’s.

A whine threatens to rise in the back of his throat. He bites down on it, taking another drink instead. “Steady,” Slade says. His hand comes to rest on Jason’s back, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades in a way that’s meant to be comforting. “Just take it slow.”

“I’m fine,” he croaks, though he doesn’t feel fine at all.

Be careful, Bruce had said. Cautious. Slade Wilson was an unknown entity, and as much as Jason was smarting over Bruce being unwilling to fight for him back at the house, he’d known he was right. Big and clearly dangerous if provoked, there was too much else at risk if Bruce were to lose. So be careful he’d told him, observe and take stock. In the meantime, Bruce was going to look into Slade’s background through his contacts, and they’d even agreed on a key phrase Jason could include in a letter if things took a turn for the worst in his new home.

A good plan for anything Slade might do to him, not so much for anything Jason might do to himself.

Concentrating, he tries to piece together last night beyond the obvious. More than anything else he can remember feeling angry, hurt. Remember the bone deep desire to lash out and the taste of wine on his tongue, curdling in his otherwise empty stomach. Jason can’t recall ever having drank like that before in his entire life. Certainly can’t remember ever being _affected_ by wine so intensely, but then he always so careful about pacing himself previously.

Not last night, though. Last night he’d drank because he hadn’t wanted to feel anymore. Had wanted to be dulled to the pain of what felt like betrayal. Some good that did.

Thinking further, he remembers allowing Slade to scent mark him, with the aim to strike at Dick where it hurt for lying to him — match him blow for blow. But he hadn’t meant for it to go any further that that. He hadn’t. Only…

Only it had.

He’s an idiot. He’s such a fucking idiot. One night away from home, just _one_. That’s all it’s taken for him to make a mess of everything.

“Steady,” Slade says next to him again. The hand on his back slides up to his neck, and against his will Jason’s muscles start to untense one by one. “Breakfast should be here soon. A little food will help settle your stomach.”

Jason’s not so sure about that, but right now he doesn’t have it in him to protest. As aching and miserable as he feels, it’s all he can do to grab the discarded sheet sitting by his feet on the floor, dragging it over his lap in attempt to cover at least some of his shame.

“Here.” Jason lifts his head up as heavy fabric covers his shoulders. His travel cloak, he realises, wrapped around him by Dick who must have retrieved it from the hanger by the door. His mate says nothing else, though, retreating back to the other bed once more as soon as it’s settled.

“I want a bath,” Jason manages, not able to look directly at either him or Slade. “I… I need a bath.”

“I’m afraid that will have to wait until tonight. We have a long way to go today until our next stop,” Slade says, not entirely without sympathy. “We’ll be leaving as soon as we’ve eaten.”

What? For the first time since opening his eyes this morning, Jason feels well and truly awake. “No,” he says sharply, shaking his head, “I _need_ a bath. Now.”

Going out like this, _smelling_ like this, even if he’ll be spending most of it sat in a carriage with the same two people who are in this room with him now… no. He won’t do that, he can’t do that. Not when he stinks of sex and sweat. Everyone will know what happened to him if he does. What he did. And if they know, Bruce will know, and God, what will he think of him then? He’ll be ashamed, no doubt, as he probably should be. Jason certainly feels that way about himself.

The hand on his neck is quite still for a moment. On the other bed, Jason sees Dick suddenly sit up straighter, looking at them both with a clenched jaw.

“We really don’t have the time,” Slade says, slowly, as if talking to a child.

Jason, his temper already frayed, bristles. The effort of talking still hurts his head, but he persists nonetheless. “If we have time to eat, I have time to take a bath.”

“But not for both.”

“Then I’ll skip breakfast!” he snaps. “I am not leaving this room until I’m clean, Slade.”

The sharp intake of breath is Dick’s. In contrast, Slade’s face looks like it’s carved from stone. “Is that so?”

Jason may not have been born with blue blood in his veins, but after Bruce took him in he was sure as hell raised with it. Whatever other penance he has to pay for his choices last night, there’s no way in hell he’s going to let his disgrace be made public. Jason meets Slade’s gaze without flinching.

“Yes.”

A chill runs down his spine as Slade continues to regard him, eye narrowed and jaw clenched. Jason readies himself to have to fight further for his cause, only to be swiftly relieved when Slade instead bows his head in acceptance.

“Very well.” His face relaxes into an easy smile, before saying with an air of affection, “You are stubborn, but then I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Anyone who can handle Dick would have to be.” Jason shudders as Slade’s thick fingers squeeze the back of his neck, but the next words out of his mouth are not meant for him. “Boy, tell the staff to bring a bath and hot water,” Slade orders Dick.

This time, there is no mention made of a privacy screen.

* * *

After leaving the town, they travel for three days by carriage, heading to the nearest port from Wayne Manor. Jason spends most of the first sleeping off the rest of his hangover, waking only to drink water and eat lunch from the packed basket Slade had prepared for them by the inn before they left, and that night (and every night after) puts his foot down about needing the privacy of his own room.

What happened between them… it can’t ever happen again.

If Slade is put out by his request, he doesn’t show it, agreeing after only a few moment’s consideration. Even if it does come with a hand pressed against Jason’s shoulder. “Whatever makes you comfortable, of course. Dick and I will take a second room to ourselves.”

“You and Dick?” he blinks.

Slade nods solemnly. “It’s safer. He may try to run again if not.”

Jason’s relief is mingled with concern. He’s been both dreading and anticipating the chance to talk to Dick alone today, and he can’t decide which feeling comes out stronger as Slade makes his intention to keep his mate with him at all times clear. Yesterday he would have jumped at the opportunity to rip into Dick. Now…

Now he doesn’t feel like he has a leg to stand on.

It’s cowardly as hell, but Jason decides not to argue it, thinking another opportunity will crop up soon enough.

Only it doesn't. After the three days of journey by carriage, they come to the port and board a ship bound for the southern coast of the country. Every night, Slade sequesters himself and Dick away from Jason, and even during the day he struggles to have the chance to say a word to his mate, shame cowing his tongue just as much as the older alpha’s presence. He also gets seasick at first, never having been on a boat before, which doesn’t help matters.

It’s hard not to miss Dick more during that time. Since they mated, Jason has never spent a night alone until now. He’s grown used to having Dick’s warmth at his back, the strength of his arm wrapped around his waist. Even the way he’d snore softly in the deepest part of the night, utterly relaxed and comfortable in their bed. Learning to sleep without him again is more difficult than Jason could have ever imagined.

They need to talk. It hurts that when they are around each other Dick will barely even look at him, unnervingly quiet in a way Jason’s never seen him be before. Slade is the one who fills in the silences, calm, steady and collected. He remains courteous towards him, and doesn’t try to take liberties the way Jason worried he might after the first night. Evidently his adamancy about having his own room wherever they stay got that message across quite clearly.

They’re almost two weeks at sea. It feels far longer.

Disembarking at a southern port city, Jason can’t help but feel out of place. The same way he did when Bruce first adopted him. Aside from the language they speak, everything here seems so different from what he’s used to, and the homesickness he’s been experiencing ever since they left the north grows only stronger. Slade doesn’t seem interesting in giving him any time to absorb it either, as their luggage is loaded into an already waiting carriage on the dock, and Jason stiffens when he moves to grasp his elbow.

“I can walk on my own,” he protests.

“I don’t want you to get lost,” Slade replies, as if it hardly matters. “Noble omegas are a popular target for criminals.”

Jason catches a glimpse of Dick’s face as he’s pulled along, his thinly pressed lips and tired gaze. “I can take care of myself.”

To his consternation, the grip on his elbow tightens, rather than letting go. “I’d rather not take the chance,” Slade says, and Jason grinds his teeth but stops himself from arguing any further.

Any more is going to look like he’s throwing a fit.

A moment later, Jason has been manhandled into the carriage. Dick follows him, while Slade stays outside to talk briefly to the driver. During the single minute of solitude between them that follows, Jason tries to catch the eye of his mate, but Dick keeps his face turned away from him, refusing to meet his look.

It’s both infuriating and concerning.

Swallowing hard, Jason fights to push past the lump that’s occupied his throat since he slept with Slade. “Dick, I—”

“Don’t,” comes the swift reply, as Dick casts a wary glance at the open carriage door. “Not here.”

Jason’s temper sparks. He’s trying to reach out to Dick, but in return his mate only shuts him down. He opens his mouth to deliver some choice words in return, but that’s when — with convenient timing — Slade chooses to climb inside. He raises his eyebrows at both of them, “Everything all right in here?”

Dick says nothing, so Jason is forced to answer for both of them. “Yes. Fine.”

“Good.” Slade sits down. Next to Jason this time, as opposed to his normal position beside Dick. “Another three days of travel should see us to my estate, so long as the weather holds fair and we don’t run into any trouble. We had luck with the wind in getting us down here so fast.”

He leans back as he talks, draping his arm across the back of the seat, and Jason shivers as he feels Slade’s fingers brush through the hair at the base of his neck, toying with it. There’s no hesitation in that touch. No consideration that he may not want it, and Jason balks enough that he attempts to lean away, only there’s nowhere to go. He’s already pressed up against the wall of the carriage. “Stop that.”

“Hm?” Slade looks at him as the carriage lurches into motion. “Stop what?”

Fingernails dig in deeper to Jason’s neck, through his hair and the high collar of his jacket. He grits his teeth, reaching up to push Slade’s hand away. “Touching me.”

Slade narrows his eye. “There’s no need to be so cold. I’m your pack alpha, I have the right to touch my packmates. You’re not still having a problem accepting the change, are you, Jason? You said you could handle yourself so I expected you to acclimate, but if you’re finding it difficult I can always bite you. It will hurt, but it does tend to ease the transition.”

Every muscle in Jason’s body goes rigid. The last thing he wants is Slade to bite him. To feel that wave of enforced obedience and surrender flow through his veins, eroding the finer points of his self control. He’s already sacrificed too much in sleeping with him, and to let it go further…

He can’t help but sneak a look at Dick, who’s now sat up straight, jaw clenched as he watches them. The collar of the borrowed shirt he’s wearing is done up tight, but Jason can still see the healing bite beneath it, and a faint stirring of guilt rises in his belly to join that already at home in his chest.

“No,” he forces himself to say stiffly. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Hm. I’m not so sure.” Slade’s fingers move to curve around the back of his neck. “I’ve allowed you your space these past two weeks, but your behaviour during them… It’s been concerning to say the least. Especially after we seemed to be getting along so well at first.”

Jason’s fingers tighten in the fabric of his trousers. There’s something different in Slade’s voice, something he’s never heard before that sets the fine hairs on his arms prickling. “It’s not you,” he tries to explain, “I just…” How can he say it in a way that won’t be directly insulting? The truth is it was a mistake, but there’s no way Slade will take kindly to that, and it’s with a start that Jason realises he’s actually a little afraid of upsetting him. What the consequences of such an action would be.

He tries to dismiss it as nothing more than the wary street child he used to be raising his head up again in an unfamiliar situation; he’d felt much the same during his first weeks with Bruce, waiting for even the smallest infraction to end in violence, only for all his worry to turn out to be for naught. Bruce had never done anything worse than pin him down when the situation called for it, and even then never in a way that actually hurt. There’s no reason to think Slade won’t be the same (his offer to bite him was nothing more than that, after all: an offer).

But still, Jason can’t quite shake the feeling from his mind.

“... I miss home,” he eventually finishes. “My family. I guess I’m still bitter over having to leave them. Being alone was easier.”

Slade’s gaze rakes over him, examining every inch of Jason head to toe, while his fingers dig a little deeper into the meat of his neck. Then all at once the sharpness vanishes, replaced by calm understanding. Slade’s grip on his neck turns gentle, massaging. “Of course. My apologies, I should have thought of that. But continuing to isolate yourself from us won’t help solve that problem long term, only prolong it. The sooner we solidify our relationship, the happier you’ll be.”

It’s a typical alpha thing to say, and as much as such sentiments have always rankled him, Jason would be hard pressed to deny there’s also something comforting in the familiarity as well. He resists the urge to scoff. Barely. Folding his arms across his chest instead. “I don’t think it’s going to be quite that easy.”

“Not if you refuse to try.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t try. I just—hey!” Jason gasps as he’s suddenly dragged towards Slade, pressed hip to shoulder against the alpha with a muscled arm wrapped around his waist. He tries to push away, one hand pressed against Slade’s chest, only to have that too caught by strong fingers.

“Enough,” Slade says sternly, the hard line of his body warm against Jason’s own. “This is for your own good, Jason. There’s no room for debate.”

His own good generally doesn’t feel like this, forced into contact he doesn’t want with another alpha. Certainly Bruce had never done anything to him like this, even back when he was still a half-feral street child hiding under tables in the manor and snapping at anyone who came near. He’d given Jason all the time he needed to come around. Slade it seems, has far less patience.

“I disagree.” he says, trying to tug his hand free now, only for Slade to tighten his grip.

“And I just said it’s not up for debate. Don’t make me say it again.” His fingertips dig into the sensitive bones of Jason’s wrist. “You need to start listening to me, Jason.”

He hisses at the pressure. It doesn’t quite hurt, but it’s not comfortable either, and with Slade’s powerful scent filling the confined space of the carriage, it’s hard to resist his natural urge to submit.

Resist Jason does, though, drawing himself up as much as he can to bare his teeth at Slade, only for an unexpected voice to then cut into the conversation.

“Slade,” Dick says, sitting forward. That and nothing more. His eyes are twin darts aimed at Slade, and Jason’s not sure what it is that’s communicated between them, but the grip on his wrist loosens slightly. Enough that it doesn’t hurt him as Slade pulls it away from his chest and down to rest against his lap.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Jason,” he says more calmly, as if nothing happened. “We seemed to be getting along so well at first, it’d be a shame to ruin that now. But at the same time, I also can’t keep allowing you to distance yourself from us.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Jason argues, but it’s clear Slade sees through the lie, and he talks over him as if he hadn’t said a word.

“I’ll give you two choices for how we proceed from here. Either accept this now, _or_ …” His fingers massage Jason’s arm. “You share a room with Dick and I tonight, and we work out our differences then.”

Jason grits his teeth. “What if I don’t like either?”

“I said two choices, Jason. Your previous pack leader may have allowed you free rein, but I expect more obedience from those under my protection.” His eye flashes, “One way or another, we will resolve this before we reach my home.”

Spend the night with him? Even as much as he’s missing Dick, Jason doesn’t yet want to be in a bedroom again with Slade. He’s already slipped up once, how can he trust himself not to do it again? And more than anything he doesn’t want to give Slade the wrong idea. More than anything, he wants to retain at least some of his dignity, and his honour. What little of it is left.

Choosing the lesser of the two evils, Jason lets his shoulder slump in defeat. “Fine. I mean… this is fine. We can do it this way.”

“Good boy,” Slade says, his hold on him relaxing. “You made the right decision.” Turning his head he noses in against Jason’s hair. “I know it may not seem that way yet, but this really is for the best.”

Yes, he’s sure it is. Resigning himself to spending the next few hours this way, Jason leans his weight in against Slade, but keeps his eyes facing forward. Across the carriage to Dick.

Dick, who has his gaze averted from them again, staring out the window. Jason wants to talk to him now more than ever, wondering what exactly was behind his intervention earlier. How he calmed Slade with only the single utterance of his name.

There’s something he doesn’t understand going on here, and with the small shift in Slade’s behaviour, the sprig of unease in his chest only continues to grow.

* * *

Slade’s home is exactly as he described it to Jason, albeit with a few extra details.

Jason looks around him at the entrance hall as his cloak is taken, and servants appear as if from nowhere to carry his few bags of luggage upstairs. This house has none of the age of Wayne manor but every inch the wealth. Which is evident in the skillful workmanship of its interior, warm wood facades and thick carpeting. The rug on which he’s currently standing looks like it’s worth more than some people earn in a lifetime — something Jason only knows because Alfred was very thorough in every aspect of his education.

“Would you like a tour?” Slade offers him warmly, his hand firm as it presses against the small of Jason’s back to guide him further into the house. It doesn’t feel much like he has a choice, which is maybe why Jason finds himself resistant to the idea.

“It’s been a long trip,” he says, keeping his tone as polite and soft as he can manage. “I think I’d rather just get settled and take some time to rest.”

He can feel the weight in the air as Slade turns his head to look down at him, then — giving in surprisingly easily to the request — nods. “Very well, then, we’ll save that for later. For now, let me show you up to your room; it’s one of the larger ones in the house, I’m certain you’ll like it.”

“Actually,” Jason says, jumping on the opportunity while it’s there, “I was thinking Dick could accompany me instead. I’ll need some help unpacking, and he is my mate.”

He maybe says that last part a little too pointedly. Dick, who has been looking ill ever since they reached the driveway, suddenly perks up behind Slade, and Jason would have to be willfully ignorant not to recognise the hope that appears in his eyes.

Hope that is dashed before it even has chance to settle.

“Dick has other places to be right now,” Slade answers. “You two will have your chance to talk alone together later. Boy,” it’s clear he’s no longer talking to Jason, “you know where to go.”

“Slade, please—” Dick starts to say, but shuts up abruptly as Slade glares at him, fingers tightening on Jason’s waist at the same time. He immediately drops his gaze down. “Yes, alpha.”

“Good, then we’ll see you later. This way, Jason.”

Slade takes him up a tall flight of stairs, followed by another. The hallways on the top floor are as grand as the ones down below. Jason looks around as much as he’s able as Slade pulls him along, noting a curious lack of portraits, before his attention is pulled by a grand looking door in front of them. But instead of going into it, Slade diverts their course instead to another, slightly plainer but still ostentatious, door on the left.

The room on the other side of it is painted in warm, welcoming colours. Softer shades of red mellowing with subtle golds. Jason cautiously sniffs the air as he steps inside, catching the faint lingering scents of what he guesses were the servants who brought his luggage up here, evidenced by the fact that those bags now sit in a small pile at the foot of a rather large four poster bed, which seems to be partially built into the wall itself so that it’s semi-enclosed. An omega’s bed, Jason realises, built for comfort and seclusion; the acts of breeding and birthing. Rather like his room at home, but bigger.

It’s beautiful, and after weeks of travelling by carriage and boat and then carriage again, stopping in small, strange inns filled with the aging scents of all the various people who’d stayed there before him, he can’t help but be drawn in by the promise of once again having a permanent space all his own. Safe and secure away from everyone else.

“You like it, then,” Slade says, from where he remains leaning against the doorway. So distracted by his new surroundings, Jason had almost forgotten he was there.

“Yes,” he answers quickly. “It’s lovely.”

“Mm, these are the quarters for the lead omega of the house,” Slade continues, and Jason pauses on his way to investigate the view from the window at his words. “It seemed only right you should have them.”

“Me?” he repeats in surprise, uncertain.

“You’re the only omega here,” Slade replies. “Outside one of the maids, of course.” He points. “There’s a bathroom through there, and my room is right next door.”

Right, of course it would be. If this room is meant for the lead omega, naturally it would be built beside the lead alpha’s, since they’re almost always a mated pair. A thought that leaves Jason feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

“What about Dick?” He says, “Shouldn’t I have the room beside his? If you ever find a mate of your own—”

Slade laughs. “If I’d wanted an omega to settle down with, I’d have found one long before now. It’s yours, Jason, and I won’t hear another word against it. Now,” he steps forward, shutting the door behind him, “let’s get you unpacked.”

“You don’t have to,” Jason protests, watching as Slade walks to the bed, picking up the first of his bags. He’s suddenly, virulently against Slade touching his belongings, and moves quickly to intercept him. “I can handle it myself.”

Slade catches his hand before he can do so. “Don’t act so ungrateful. I just want to make you feel welcome here, that’s all. This is part of that.”

Reacting on instinct, Jason attempts to yank his arm back. “I’m not ungrateful. I just…” Slade’s hold tightens and something in him finally snaps. “Let go of me,” he growls, bringing up his other arm to shove at the alpha’s chest. He’s beyond tired of Slade manhandling him.

What happens next is almost too fast for him to process. A loud _crack_ fills the air, and the side of Jason’s face feels like it’s on fire as the rest of the world tilts and blurs, only to suddenly end in the wrenching pain of his arm feeling like it’s being pulled from its socket as he crashes down onto his knees, hand still held in Slade’s unyielding grip.

He can’t help the shout, even before he realizes what’s happened. Jason’s free hand jerks to his shoulder, his vision spinning as he gasps a breath and tries to comprehend.

Slade… Slade _hit_ him.

“You bastard!” he chokes. No one has struck him like that since he was a child, long before he met Bruce, and he’s not about to put up with it now. Attempting to stagger back up to his feet, Jason growls, but is brought up short by Slade’s other hand grabbing his head by his hair, forcing him back down. Between that and the fact his arm is still twisted up behind him, he can’t move without it exploding into fresh agony. “Fuck!”

“Be quiet,” Slade snarls, not as loud as Jason’s outcry, but powerful nonetheless. “I’ve had just about enough of your lip, boy. You’re a spoiled brat of an omega, and I’ve tried to be patient with you these past two weeks, but no more. _I_ am the alpha in this house, not you. You don’t get to question me. If I want to touch you, I’ll touch you. If I want to be in your space, I will be. Do you understand?”

“You’re hurting me!” Jason gasps.

“And I’ll keep hurting you until you answer my question; do you understand?”

He bites down on his lip, containing the whine that wants to come forth. All the parts of him that insist he can’t win this fight, that it would be better to submit. “You’re crazy. That’s not how packs work.”

“And who taught you that? That prissy Lord Wayne?” Jason hears Slade snort behind him. “The strong rule, boy, that’s the way it’s always been. Everyone else obeys. Now, one last chance. Answer the question.”

This is madness, Jason thinks. For all that Slade has gotten forceful with him at times, talked over him and made his authority clear in other, more civilised ways, the idea that he would hit him over something so minor…

Too late now, he realises that this was what Dick had been trying to communicate to him the night Slade first invaded their lives. He’d just been too angry to see it then, caught up in the otherwise charming air the alpha presented. The sympathetic shoulder that was offered to him in the wake of the reveal of his mate’s lie.

What an idiot he’s been. What a goddamn…

“Go to hell!” Jason hisses.

Slade’s reaction is instantaneous.

The hand in his hair jerks up, bowing his back into a hard arch as Slade drags him far enough up to then shove him forward onto the bed. His hips hit the edge, his face the comforter, and a foot kicks one ankle out with enough force to make him yelp. The one hand shoves his face further down, and Jason panics as he feels the fingers slide through his hair, pulling it back from his neck and yanking his collar out of the way.

“No. _No_.” He kicks backwards, shoving at the bed with his other hand, but he can’t get the angle or the force to get away. “Get off me!”

“You were warned, boy,” Slade growls, just above him and _too close_.

Weight presses down on his back through his trapped arm, driving the air from him even before teeth come down on the slice of neck between his hair and collar. He doesn’t have the breath to shout, only to gasp and then whine in panicked protest, muffled by the heavy comforter of the bed. He’s hyper-focused, too aware of the dig of sharp canines into his skin and the heavy weight of Slade leaning over him, bearing down…

The _slice_ of pain as the teeth break his skin draws him tight, and then Slade’s growling into his throat and there’s nothing Jason can do but go limp and pliable as his world hazes out around him. The vibration of the growl strikes a deep chord in his chest, and he shivers even as his breathing shortens to small, even inhalations to minimize movement. The teeth ease slightly but don’t release him, not for what feels like at least a minute more. Even then it’s only to shift, fingers pulling his head up and nose nudging against his chin until teeth can settle against a spot just below the corner of his jaw.

Jason breathes out a whine as they worry at it, past the edge of pain and into a low ache before it seems they’re satisfied.

The hand on his arm lets it come down then, as Slade pulls away from him with one last tug at his hair and wrist, just enough to send him sliding off the edge of the bed and to the ground, curling in on himself.

“That’s better.”

He flinches.

Fingers pet through his hair and he gives another soft whine, trying to make it clear that he’s done. He’s _done_. He doesn’t need any more.

There’s the sound of fabric shifting, and then the fingers slide down and underneath his chin, flicking it up with pressure Jason doesn’t dare to resist. “Look at me, boy.”

He opens his eyes, and only the command lets him drag his gaze off the floor and lift it to meet his alpha’s eye, shuddering as he does. Slade’s down on one knee in front of him, towering over him, and he feels small, hates looking up and actually locking eyes with him. He doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to _challenge_ …

“The next time you misbehave,” Slade says, low and firm, “I’ll put you over my knee and treat you like the brat you’re being. That’s a promise, boy.” Jason believes it. “Now, you’re going to unpack and get settled. Rest if you need to, I don’t care. One of the servants will be by later to help you clean yourself up, and then you’ll come down to dinner. Is that clear?”

“Yes, alpha,” he whispers, unable to summon any more volume to his words.

Slade gives a small, satisfied nod and then finally lets him go, getting back to his feet. “Til dinner, then. Try not to cause any trouble before that; I’d hate to ruin anyone’s appetite by having to punish you first.”

Jason doesn’t move as Slade leaves the room, not until his footsteps have faded away and everything around him is utterly silent. Only then does he take in a sharp, gasping breath and shake how he wants to.

He… He feels like a child again, curled beneath the table with his face aching from a slap or a backhand. One of his shoulders stinging from a fresh bite because he’s done something wrong or said something he shouldn’t have or just reminded his dad, _again_ , that he’s not the alpha son he wanted. They’re pretty much hidden under the freckles that dot his shoulders, but Jason swears he can feel every single pinprick scar from those bites in icy relief, and he can’t— can’t stop trembling. Can’t stop hearing his dad’s voice snarling, _“Do that again and I’ll beat you black and blue, bastard,”_ in his ear, against his neck.

Dick. He wants Dick. The smell of his mate and safe arms and _anything_ to get these clawing memories out of his skull. His arm hurts, and his face hurts, and he wants Dick and _home_. And he can’t have either of them.

Jason drags himself off the ground and onto the bed, numbly crawling across it to the furthest corner at its recessed head, where he can press his back into the wall and curl up into the pillows. It’s as far as he gets before the first sob carves through his chest, and he drags one of the larger pillows to his chest to muffle himself, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the fabric soak up the tears before they make it to his cheeks.

Nothing smells familiar, and that makes him cry all the harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Physical abuse, biting, verbal abuse, emotional manipulation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Chapter warnings are at the bottom, as always. Enjoy!

One of the maids appears three hours later, opening the door to Jason’s room without a knock. He hasn’t moved much in all that time, still curled around his pillow and staring blankly at the wall. He doesn’t move now, either, even as the sounds of his belongings being rooted through and packed away make their way to him from the other side of the room. It’s only as the bath is brought in that he’s forced to stir, remembering Slade’s earlier warning and fearful of further recrimination from him.

Jason sits perfectly stiff and still as the maid scrubs him down, washes his hair and then offers him a towel when the time comes to climb out. The clothes laid out on the bed for him are the best out of what were packed in his bags by Alfred, and his fingers tremble slightly as he puts them on. Covering the bite marks Slade left on his neck with a high collar makes him feel better for only one shining moment — until the brush of fabric against them makes his legs threaten to buckle under him all over again.

After he’s finished dressing, she fixes his hair and then opens the door to lead him down to dinner. Jason follows her as docile as a lamb. The hallways seem that much more threatening now, and the knowledge that his quarters sit next to Slade’s looms at the back of his mind like a thundercloud, but no sign of the alpha other than traces of scent shows until they reach the dining room, where he sits waiting for Jason to arrive alongside Dick.

Jason knows this, because as soon as he steps through the door he hears a distressed gasp escape his mate’s lips, and Dick is shoving himself out of his chair to run across the floor to him.

“Jason! Oh my god, your face...” After barely speaking to each other for so long, let alone touching, the sudden pressure of having Dick’s hands on his face and his scent in his nose almost overwhelms Jason, no matter how gentle his mate might try to be as he examines the bruise left on his cheek by Slade earlier. The open concern in Dick’s eyes is something he in no way deserves, but still Jason cleaves to it, unable to stop himself from whimpering as he’s pulled down into a hug. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him!”

The shout makes him flinch, despite the fact it isn’t aimed in his direction. Jason immediately buries his face in the warmth of Dick’s throat, closing his eyes and hunching up his shoulders as he takes in the comfort of his smell. The heavy waves of protection and safety Dick is putting out around them. Anger too.

Behind his mate, the scrape of another chair being pushed back indicates Slade standing.

“That promise was made in relation to your behaviour, not his.” he says, voice deep and calm. “The boy acted out, so I corrected him.”

“Corrected…” Dick sounds incredulous, “You bruised up half his face! What the hell could he have done to deserve that?”

And marked up his neck too, but pointing that out is the last thing on Jason’s mind right now. Even if he did think it was a good idea — which distantly he knows it isn’t — he doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t want to do anything but keep hiding in the comfort of his mate’s arms.

“He tested my patience, as he’s been doing for days now.” Slade answers shortly, “The exact reason doesn’t matter, it’s done. Now, come sit down.”

Jason feels the way Dick’s shoulders stiffen at the order, hears the sound of his teeth clenching in his jaw, and he whines softly when, after taking a deep breath in through his nose, his mate gently pushes him a step back, only to then press their foreheads together.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, Jay.” Thumbs stroke over Jason’s cheeks, warm and tender against the bruise. “I’m sorry about all this, I’m so sorry.”

“ _Now_ , boys.”

Jason flinches. He wants to stay like this with Dick, but he also doesn’t want to get hit again, or bitten, which is what his instincts tell him will happen if they don’t do as Slade says. Luckily, Dick cuts through his indecision by taking the lead, lightly brushing their mouths together before grasping his hand and starting to lead him over to the table.

“No,” Slade says, when they draw close to the same side Dick was sitting on when Jason entered the room. He points to his left, “Jason, here.”

_Here_. The other side of the table. Where Jason will have to sit next to Slade alone, separated from Dick. He quivers at the thought of it, sweat greasing his palm, and only steadies because Dick takes that moment to squeeze his hand and give him a reassuring look before letting go.

Jason has no choice but to stiffly walk round and take the seat Slade has designated for him.

Dinner is conducted mostly in silence. Three courses, including dessert, come and go from the table, and Jason barely eats a bite from any of them. It’s like he’s walking on eggshells being so close to Slade again, afraid at any moment the alpha will turn on him for some unknown, minor infraction, just the way his father used to do.

He hates every minute of it.

It’s only as the final plate is taken away that Slade finally sees fit to address them again. Or address Jason, rather.

“Come along, boy,” he says, “I'll escort you back to your room.”

_I can find my own way_ almost crosses Jason’s lips, but then he remembers what happened last time he tried to refuse Slade something and his mouth clamps instantly shut.

No, better not.

When Slade stands up, extending his hand towards him, Jason forces himself to take it. He’s pulled to his feet like he weighs nothing, and finds himself taking note of the strength in Slade’s grip in a way he never did before. The muscles made of steel that gave Bruce pause in accepting the unspoken challenge the alpha put forward when he first came to claim Dick back from them.

His hand is released more or less the moment he’s upright, and Jason moves to take a quick step away from the table, only to then freeze in place as Slade’s arm slips around his waist instead.

The motion is as possessive as it is casual. A mark of ownership he almost can’t abide. Without thinking about it, Jason throws a small, panicked look Dick’s way, and immediately knows it was a mistake when his mate surges to his feet in response.

“Slade!” Dick’s hands are flat on the table as he leans forward over it, jaw clenched and shoulders squared.

Slade stops, but he doesn’t let go. In fact, his arm actually tightens around Jason’s waist, drawing him closer so that they’re pressed almost hip to hip. That’s the only visible reaction he shows, though, as the mild tone of his reply demonstrates. “Yes, Dick?”

The air in the room feels sharper suddenly, electric. Thrumming with the warning charge of an impending thunderstorm. Jason watches as Dick breathes in sharply, can’t look away from the sight of his fingers curling tight into the tablecloth. “Let him go.”

Slade tilts his head slightly, “Let him go?” he repeats, still calm. Still unaffected. “Why?”

“You know why,” Dick says, jaw gritted and visibly stressed, “He’s not… not _yours_.”

“No?” Slade’s reply is so soft, so mild, it feels like a weapon in itself. “He’s a member of my pack, Dick. Yours, and mine.”

The tiny flash of teeth as Dick presses, “He’s _my_ mate,” is only a hint, but Jason feels himself draw tense all over again.

Slade’s voice stays mild as he counters, “And I’m _your_ alpha. Don’t pretend you came into this not knowing what was expected of you both.”

Jason watches Dick hesitate, then straighten up with slow deliberation, and knows exactly what’s about to happen in a sharp, shivery flash of realization. He immediately wants to protest, to plead for it not to, but Dick looks Slade straight in the eye and bares his teeth in full, and his throat locks up before so much as a sound can escape.

“I challenge your right to lead,” Dick says, voice ringing loud and clear.

There’s a sharp moment of silence where Jason can hardly breathe. Then Slade lets him go, one hand pressing to his shoulder and pushing him away. It’s more his own frozen muscles and less the strength that makes him stumble.

Slade’s expression is unreadable. “This doesn’t have to happen, boy. Yield, and I’ll forget you said that.”

Jason swallows, and manages to get enough of the lump to go away that he can gasp, “ _Dick_. Don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Dick says, without looking at him. “It’s not you he wants; I’ll be okay.”

Okay. It doesn’t feel like he’ll be okay. Maybe what Dick actually means is that he’ll _survive_. That Slade won’t kill him, just hurt him an awful, awful lot.

There’s the table between them, but Slade postures like there isn’t, tone lowering to something altogether dangerous. “Stand down. _Now._ ”

Jason, even not being the target of that command, can’t help stepping back, or the shiver that drags down his spine. His knees feel weak, for just a moment, but that he manages to shake off.

Dick, across the barrier of that table, only says, “Let him go home, and I will.”

Slade snorts derogatorily, “I don’t think so. His place is here, as is yours. Now don’t be a fool, boy, or you’ll make it worse for both of you.”

“Dick—” Jason tries to intervene again, only Slade growls at him, and against his will he immediately shuts up.

Perhaps it’s intentional, perhaps it’s not, but that one sound from Slade is the last spark necessary to ignite the violence brewing between them.

Dick vaults the table like it’s nothing, moving faster and more gracefully than Jason’s ever seen him move before. In less than the breadth of a second, he’s in front of Slade and striking upwards; fists a blur as he aims a flurry of blows at the older alpha’s neck and head.

It’s so quick, Jason can barely track it, let alone do anything other than stare at the display with a mix of worry and awe running through him.

He bites his lip as he steps back further and further, moving until he feels his back hit the nearest wall. Part of Jason wants to jump in, help on Dick’s side, but the bite Slade left on his neck earlier still hurts, and it pulls on those other instincts he has. The ones that say to back away and hide, make himself small and unobtrusive, while the two alphas fight it out.

He hates himself for it, but even that hate isn’t strong enough to break him out of the compulsion, and so Jason can only watch the violence unfold in front of him.

At first, things seem to go well. Dick is swift and sure footed, striking three times for Slade’s every one. It takes Jason awhile — too long — to realize that it’s not doing anything. A reddened bit of skin, a small exhale, but Slade hardly bends beneath the strikes. It’s almost like he’s waiting. For Dick to tire, to slip up, or simply get too close. Slade is built like a bear, he can stand to take a few hits, whereas if he were to hit Dick in turn…

It reminds Jason suddenly of those few times he watched Dick and Bruce spar in the training yard at home. Those fights were nothing like this one — duels with swords, rather than bare fists and teeth, but the principle is the same. One opponent relying on speed and agility; the other, raw strength and the knowledge of how to use it at exactly the right time.

And just like Bruce, Slade has all the patience in the world in that regard.

Jason sees what’s coming a split second before it actually happens. Too late for his shouted warning to make any difference. Dick slows just a fraction too much, and just like that, Slade has him.

The first blow makes Jason’s cheek ache anew in sympathy. But then there’s another and another. Once he has it, Slade doesn’t hesitate to press his advantage, crowding in on Dick and not allowing him either the room or the opportunity to recover his momentum. He rains blows on Dick’s head, his shoulders and his chest.

Jason knows he must make some kind of sound, but his distress in this moment is so acute he can’t even process the sound of his own voice. His ears are buzzing as the scent of blood reaches him, his chest feels tight. Somehow, he goes from merely pressing back against the wall to hunkering down at the foot of it, every instinct telling him to make himself as small and harmless as possible.

God, why can’t he move? Why can’t he do _something_ to help? Why’d he have to be born this way, a slave to what everyone calls the ‘natural order’, and completely unable to intervene as his mate is being beaten in front of him?

The feeling is made worse by how Dick refuses to give up, even as Slade lands more and more hits — fighting long past what most would take as the point of knowing they’ve been beaten.

_Stop_ , Jason wants to shout, _Just stop,_ but he can’t even do that. The only thing he can do is close his eyes, and that’s still not good enough to close him off from what’s happening. He can still hear it. Still _smell_ it.

“Give!” Slade snarls, the sound of a body hitting the floor preceding his demand, and Jason flinches reflexively at the growl that follows, “You’re beaten, boy. Don’t make me hurt you any further.”

He hears Dick choke, then spit, “Not… not done yet, Slade.”

“Yes,” There’s a thud, the sound of flesh being hit hard, “You are.”

Dick snarls, there’s a crash, something fragile shattering (A plate? A glass?), then a choked off whimper. Finally, Jason opens his eyes again to look, compelled by worry for Dick more than fear of Slade, and what he sees makes his breath catch in his chest.

There are shards of broken china all over the floor. Glass, too, with the wine from it sitting in a puddle over the hardwood floor. It’s strange how Jason focuses on these facts before anything else. Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from what’s to come by building up to it first, but the moment he does lift his gaze higher, he knows that’s a lost cause. Nothing can prepare him for the sight of Dick bloody and bruised under Slade’s hands. It’s like the moment Slade bit Dick in the carriage in front of him, only ten times worse.

“Listen closely now, Grayson,” Slade says to Dick, who’s been slammed down over the edge of table, “Because if we have to go through this again, I’m not going to be nearly so kind. _I_ am the leader of this pack. That makes you, and by extension your mate, mine. Now and always. Understand?”

Dick choking under Slade’s and hand, still nonetheless manages to shake his head. Jason watches as he shoves and kicks at Slade, do everything he can to fight free of the hold and failing. Slade must be deliberately cutting off his airflow, because with every second his movements are slowing, becoming feebler.

And still, Jason can’t _move_.

“Fine,” Slade grunts, after a minute of this, “We’ll do it the hard way.”

He released Dick, and in the same moment Jason’s hears his mate gasp in one huge desperate breath, Slade suddenly flips him over and slams him back down against the table, this time on his front. Dick’s hands push against the surface of the wood, the tablecloth already falling off the other side. Jason hears him gasp, “N-no… wait. Slade… please, n-not in front of—”

“I warned you,” Slade ignores him, and Jason starts at the sound of fabric tearing. The sudden feeling of the pit of his stomach dropping out from under him all over again. “If this is what it takes to make you listen, then so be it.”

_It’s not you he wants._

Jason sees one of Slade’s hands move down between Dick’s legs, while the other pushes down on his back to keep him pinned, and just like that, he understands. Just like that—

Getting back up onto his feet happens almost without his notice. Jason’s heart is thudding so hard, he can barely hear anything else above the flood of horror and anger it preempts.

He can’t let this happen.

Counting on the fact that Slade is no longer paying any attention to him, Jason darts forward from the wall and launches himself at the alpha. He’s not really thinking about what he’s doing, or what will happen after that. Only that, right now, there’s nothing more important than stopping Slade from hurting Dick.

Drawing back one hand, Jason lashes out with his fist at Slade’s head, a furiously growled “Leave him alone!” leaving his lips at the same time. It’s a shock and a pleasure when he feels his knuckles actually connect, and Slade lose his grip on what he’s doing to stumble aside with a stunned grunt of pain. Jason takes that moment to put himself between Slade and Dick, with his hands raised and teeth bared in warning.

“Jason, don’t—!” he hears Dick say from behind him as he tries to push himself back up, but Jason’s eyes and ears are all on Slade as he growls.

“Shouldn’t have done that, boy.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, discarding every bit of high born propriety Alfred has ever taught him in those two words. It’s harder with Slade openly looking at him now, but he holds onto that burn of protective aggression inside you. “I’m not going to let you hurt Dick.”

“Really, because it seems to me you let me hurt him plenty while you cowered over there by the wall.” Slade narrows his eye dangerously, “He made an official challenge; you have no right to interfere here, Jason.”

“A challenge you’ve already won,” he replies hotly, reaching back and putting his hand on Dick’s shoulder. The bites on the back of Jason’s neck and under his jaw feels like they’re burning from the heat of Slade’s gaze alone. “You don’t need to do this.”

The flash of Slade’s teeth almost makes him cringe. “If he admits that, I won’t. I haven’t heard him yield yet, though, have you?”

Jason wants to say yes, to just get his attention off of Dick and finish this, but… no. No, Dick didn't give. Jason hasn't seen a real challenge before — no one ever challenged Bruce — but he knows the rules. Dick _has_ to give.

Jason takes in a shallow breath, caught under Slade's gaze. Then, despite the way his stomach roils at the idea of taking his eyes off him for even an instant, he turns his head and looks back at Dick instead.

“You need to yield.” he tells him.

Dick’s eyes widen, even though one of them is swiftly swelling shut. “Jason, no, I can still—”

“No, Dick, you can’t.” Jason hates saying it to him, admitting to his mate’s face that there is something out there he can’t protect him from, but it’s the truth. It’s been the truth ever since Slade first turned up at Bruce’s door. “ _Please_ , just… Just stop.”

“Jay…” Dick shakes his head, speaking softly in a way that means Slade can’t overhear him, “It won’t be that easy. It never is with him.”

Jason bites his lip, he doesn’t doubt that, but still…

“I don’t want to watch him hurt you anymore.” he says.

Dick’s breath hitches the moment he says it. Something hopeless and fragile breaks in his eyes as he looks at him, then — with a small flinch — he bows his head and nods. “Okay, Jay,” he whispers, “Okay.” Then louder, “I yield, Slade. You hear me? I _yield_.”

Jason leans in against Dick with relief, glad to be close to him, to smell him again. He feels so raw right now, he doesn’t know any other way to cope other this. He just wants familiarity around him, and here that can only mean Dick.

“Wise choice,” he hears Slade say, as Dick slides an arm around Jason’s waist to hold him in turn. “Now, if you’re both done being foolish, I suggest we vacate the room and allow the servants to clean the mess you’ve made.”

He can feel how tense Dick still is against him, suspicion carving every muscle as if they’re made of stone. Jason doesn’t want to move, but after a lingering second Dick grimaces and gives him a gentle nudge back. “Help me walk, kay?”

Jason lifts his head enough to see his face, then reluctantly nods and allows Dick to slip an arm around his shoulders before leaning his weight against him.

Across the room, Slade eyes them for a moment before jerking his head back towards the door. “Good. Now follow me, boys. And don’t even think of trying anything funny. If you do, I promise you won’t like the results.”

 

* * *

 

Jason doesn’t know where he expects Slade to take them after that, but it’s certainly not back to his own room. The nerves in his legs tingle as he helps Dick sit down on the bed, before moving to cuddle in next to him. Only Slade makes a disapproving sound before he can do so, and points his hand back towards the small wash basin and filled jug left sitting atop Jason’s dresser.

“Get a cloth,” he orders, “Since this whole mess started over you, you can take care of dealing with Dick’s injuries.”

It might be meant as a punishment, but Jason has no complaints about it other than the seconds he has to leave his mate’s side. After retrieving the cloth and basin, he settles back on the bed and gently starts to wipe the now dried blood from Dick’s mouth and nose, as well letting the cool water sooth his rapidly forming bruises. His right eye has now almost completely swollen shut, and Jason instinctively croons in comfort when he runs the cloth over it.

After he’s done, Dick takes the opportunity to lean in, pushing his face against Jason’s neck and shuddering.

“Jay,” he whispers, so quiet now that Jason barely him, “Listen to me, whatever he does next, you have to let it happen. Don’t interfere again. I can take it, I promise. Just don’t draw his attention back to you.”

“But you yielded.” Jason says back blankly, “You yielded. What else would he—”

“Jason,” Slade interrupts them.

You could hear a pin drop in the moments after Slade says his name. Jason shifts, very slowly, to look at him. He doesn’t say anything, but that hardly seems to bother Slade, who looks strict and serious as he steps forwards to them from the dresser.

“I made you a promise earlier, do you remember it?”

Jason’s mind goes blank. Earlier? All he remembers of earlier is being scared and angry and upset. The humiliation of Slade’s teeth in his neck and his subsequent crying fit after. Even now, just the thought if it is enough to make his shoulders rise, his stomach boil uncomfortably, and his thighs press together as he wants to curl in on himself.

He can’t remember a promise. He can’t.

“I told you that the next time you misbehaved I’d put you over my knee like the brat you were being,” Slade bares his teeth, and Jason’s heart thuds in his chest as his eyes immediately jump up to the mark his knuckles have left on the alpha’s cheek. “And I always keep my promises, boy.”

Dick shifts, “Slade, wait a second. He was just trying to protect me. You don’t have to—”

“You be quiet,” is the sudden snarl, “Or I’ll do something far worse instead.” Slade’s gaze is furiously stern as he glares at them, “You both need to get it through your heads today who is in charge here, because my patience is fast running out. There’ll be no bargains, no more ‘sacrifices’ or pleading. You will both learn to accept your punishments as I see fit, and if you don’t like them… well, perhaps you’ll finally learn to do what you’re told without me having to tell you twice.”

Dick’s arm tightens around Jason’s waist, but he must be taking Slade’s warning to heart, because he doesn’t say another word.

“Good,” Slade nods, sensing this, “Now, Jason, come here.”

He doesn’t want to move. Maybe can’t, even. But then Dick strokes his fingers over his stomach, gentle and comforting though his voice sounds bitter and broken by contrast. “Do as he says, Jay,” he whispers against his ear, “Just do as he says. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Jason doesn’t believe that last part for a second. He does, however, believe Slade’s threat of a worse punishment if he doesn’t do as he’s told now, though.

Somehow, he extricates himself from Dick’s hold, then — on slightly shaking legs — walks over to Slade.

As soon as he’s close enough, one of Slade’s huge hands clamp down over the back of his neck, across the raw bite there, before dragging him over towards a lightly padded chair set next to the window. There he forces Jason to his knees, sits down, and — as promised — drags him over his lap. Heat suffuses Jason’s cheeks at the position, though not as much as it does when Slade yanks up the long flowing ends of his belted shirt to expose his rear, then without care tears the fabric of his trousers open enough to yank them down his legs.

“Now, don’t move,” comes the warning, “Otherwise it’ll be my belt you feel next instead of my hand. That goes for you, too, Dick.”

Jason hears the bed creak lightly, but that’s all the sound that comes from Dick’s direction. Still too afraid of Slade to protest any more than he has, probably, and God, Jason knows the feeling.

The first blow makes him cry out beyond any personal resolve he might have had to keep quiet, with as sudden and as hard as it comes. There’s no warning given, no indication that he’s about to be struck, just the sharp _crack_ of a broad hand against his skin. It’s enough to make him jerk forward, and Slade’s fingers tighten against his neck till the pain there is almost enough to distract from the sudden heat elsewhere.

Until the second strike lands, that is.

It _hurts_. Like the first hit, Slade doesn’t hold back, and Jason finds himself redefining the stunning blow to his face from earlier. If Slade had hit him like _this_ , it might have broken his jaw. Or maybe it’s just that without the anger (and being a little stunned) to carry him through, he can feel it so much more intensely. Here, draped over Slade’s lap and pinned by that hand on his neck, there’s nothing for him to think about but the impact.

It feels like he can’t catch his breath, as Slade hits him again, and again. What breath he does have is shoved out in cries and yelps, leaving him gasping and increasingly dizzy as the pain builds. His fingers clutch at Slade’s thigh, fabric twisting between his fingers as he instinctively tries to find something to ground him against the overwhelming sensation.

It’s not working. Tears spill from his eyes, gasps turning into sobs. It feels like his skin is on _fire_. He remembers pain, but not like this. Not ever this… this intimate. This _intense_.

(He’s glad — distantly, increasingly hysterically — that it’s not the belt. Jason remembers how that feels, the _crack_ of it against his back. He’s not sure he can do that again.)

It’s even harder to get air with the hard knot in his throat, brought on by the tears. Another _smack_ of Slade’s palm and he jerks hard enough to pitch forwards a little, only able to give a sharp, breathless noise of pain. He tries to gasp, but all of it catches on that lump, and then another hit robs him of the tiny threads of air he did get. He can’t— He can’t _breathe_.

His head spins, panic overtaking even the pain as he tries desperately to inhale and just— just—

In a rush, everything goes dark.

 

* * *

 

Jason wakes slowly, his head pounding and mouth painfully dry. Shifting comes with immediate regret as his rear and thighs light up with pain, leaving him exhaling out a whine, fingers digging into the cloth beneath them.

“Easy, easy,” a voice says, warm and concerned against his ear. It takes him a long couple moments to realize that it’s Dick. “Stay still, Jason. You’re going to be okay, just try not to move.”

He doesn’t think he can manage words, but he does try and keep himself from moving as a hand touches his arm, squeezing it with light pressure. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He doesn’t want to have to face the world beyond the darkness of his eyelids.

But then Slade’s voice slices into that darkness. “With us again, Jason?”

There’s no choice but for him to crack his eyes open, slowly turning his head away from the cover of the— the bed, to look up. He swallows at the sight of Slade, sitting at the edge and looking down at them, expression cool and hard. His throat locks tight.

Luckily, Slade doesn’t seem to care that he’s not capable of words. “Good. I trust you’ve learned your lesson, boy.” After a moment where Jason tries and fails to make any sound, Slade’s gaze lifts slightly, to where Dick must be. “I’m going to go get the mess that you boys caused cleaned up. When I get back, you’ll come with me. Is that clear?”

The hand on Jason’s arm flexes. “Yes, sir.”

Slade studies them both for a moment, then reaches forward. Jason shudders hard enough that it makes him hurt, but doesn’t dare to pull away from the fingers that trace the side of his throat, tipping his chin up and then moving down to push the collar of his shirt back. Jason can hear the sharp inhalation from Dick, but it barely registers under the pressure of those fingers against the bite mark.

Slade’s voice is as threatening as bared steel when he says, “I expect obedience in this house, boy. Raise a hand to me again, and I’ll break it. Am I understood?”

The whine finally breaks free, low and submissive and everything he needs Slade to believe, and somehow he manages to shift his head in a small nod as well. It feels like a gargantuan effort.

It’s good enough. Slade’s hand pulls away from his neck, and he stands. After another couple moments of studying, and with not a word, he strides from the room.

Jason realizes, as the door closes, that he’s trembling.

“Hey, you’re okay, baby, you’re okay.” It’s a blatant lie, but Dick strokes the hand down his arm, mouth pressing to the back of his head, and Jason _wants_ to believe it. “Just breathe for me, alright? Breathe, nice and even. I know it hurts, but I’m here. I’ve got you, Jason.”

As if it matters.

He turns his head back into the bed, tears building in his eyes as much from the pervasive thought that there’s no way out as from the pain itself. It hurts, but he twists his head and moves to lean on his other side so he can face Dick, burying his face into a shoulder and pressing as close as he can without moving from lying on his stomach. Dick’s hand immediately comes to his back, rubbing up between his shoulder blades.

The mouth that presses to his temple is soft, and there’s one deep inhale before Dick gives a low, comforting rumble of a purr from the depths of his chest.

For a couple moments, Jason feels himself loosening out of instinct. The tears slow, and his shoulders ease down a bit as the vibration carries into his skull, the sound cutting right through all his pain to the parts that recognize Dick as alpha. _Mate_.

Then the purr breaks, stuttering into a small gasp and a groan. The hand leaves his back, and Jason turns his head enough to see it come to Dick’s side instead, arm covering his ribs.

Reality comes back.

“I’m okay,” Dick says, but it’s too late for that to make Jason come back to that momentary comfort. “Nothing’s broken; I’ll be okay.”

No, he won’t. Neither of them will. Just a few minutes, if that, and Slade will be back. He’ll take Dick, and he’ll — his mind flicks back to the fight, Dick pinned to the table and desperate — do whatever he wants, and neither of them can stop him. Dick _can’t_ stop him; it’s a fact.

But he’ll try. Jason knows, and it twists his stomach up into knots, that Dick doesn’t have the heart to sit by and just watch if Slade tries to do something else to him. Hurt him, in some way, or get too personal, or… Anything. And Jason’s not sure he can watch another fight, and he’s not sure he can stomach being forced to bear witness to… whatever else Slade might do to put Dick down.

Dick, oblivious to the direction his mind is going, curls into him. “I’ll get us out, Jason,” Dick says against the top of his head. “I’ve done it before, I can do it again. I’ll get us out, okay?”

Jason doesn’t doubt that. Dick could get them out, but the bigger question is, what then? What happens after they get out? Where do they go? His heart and instinct says Bruce, but absolutely Slade would know to look for them there first. If they could even make it as far as that. And if they did, then it's just forcing Bruce to go up against Slade in their stead. If he loses…

No, they can't.

It has to be something quieter. They have to… If they can get someone’s attention, if he can just get word to Bruce somehow, they can get Slade arrested. Surely, some level of this abuse has to be illegal. Right? (At least, what he’s doing to Dick. It’s not… Alpha rights don’t extend to other alphas, Jason’s pretty sure.)

But that’s going to take time. It’ll have to be letters, and those will take time to be delivered. Until then, the most important thing is surviving. Whatever that means. As long as the both of them are alive, and in one piece, when the rescue arrives, they’ll be able to get out. But if Slade figures it out before that, god knows what might happen.

What if Dick acts differently, knowing what Jason’s going to do? What if Slade knows him well enough to notice? Or to know that he’s lying, if he’s asked?

Jason swallows back a whine, his chest aching as he presses a little closer to Dick.

He can’t say anything. It’s too big a risk. Nor can he risk doing anything that’ll draw attention to himself either, and that might be the hardest thing of all, because what will draw Slade’s attention to him quickest is also the thing Jason himself wants the most: Dick.

He has to pull away. Has to act like Slade's scared him off interacting with his own mate with any degree of intimacy (which might as well be true). Dick's not going to understand, which may be the worst part of it. By doing this, Jason will inevitably hurt him, even more than himself.

All he can hope is that after rescue comes, Dick will forgive him for it.

In his ear, Dick is still murmuring soft, comforting words. Jason closes his eyes, letting himself sink into it; the warmth of his mate’s arms around him and the reassuring timbre of his voice. With his new resolution, this may be the last chance he gets to enjoy them for quite some time.

He means to remember it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Verbal/emotional abuse, violence/fighting in context of a challenge, threatened/implied rape, spanking/threat of belt, panic attack resulting in unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little worse before they get better.
> 
> Warnings for all previous chapters apply to this one, folks, but check the bottom notes for specifics if you need to. Read safe.

Jason spends the next three days almost completely bedridden after his beating. The furthest he can manage to walk is to the bathroom, and then only barely. Half the time, he ends up crawling the last few feet back to his bed, by which time the backs of his legs and his ass are a mess of heat and pain all over again from the bruising.

He’s glad he doesn’t have to see it, at least. However bad it feels, Jason is sure the mess Slade made of him looks worse.

He spends most of the days rereading the books he packed in his luggage. When meals are brought to him by the servants, he eats and drinks without complaint. There’s little in the way of anything else to do, though, and company is… sparing, to say the least. He barely sees Dick or even Slade for the duration, and tries very hard not to think about what that may mean.

On the fourth day, feeling a little better, if still terribly stiff and weak, he gathers himself together and as quietly and humbly as he can manage, asks the maid to bring him some paper, a pen, and ink.

It’s a request he’s wanted to make ever since the first day he got here, but out of a sense of self preservation, he’s held off so far. Jason knows that if he’d asked immediately after Slade beat him, the man’s guard would be up, and he would either force him to doctor the letter to his liking, or maybe even refuse the request completely.

Now, with a few days gone to cool his head, Jason hopes that it will go through without question. Maybe even unnoticed if he’s extremely lucky. But then, luck hasn’t been on his side for a while now. Not since he first laid eyes on Slade.

Which is why he isn’t at all surprised when, after twenty minutes have passed from the maid leaving, the alpha walks in his door instead, holding in his hands a sheaf of paper and bottle of ink.

“I hear you asked for these,” he says pleasantly, as if not noticing the way Jason immediately stiffened in response to his presence. “I’ve been wondering when you would finally get around to it.”

Swallowing harshly, he manages to find his voice. “My father will expect us to have reached your home by now. He’ll worry if he doesn’t receive a letter from me soon.”

“I daresay he will,” Slade agrees idly, moving to set the paper and ink down on the desk in the room. “But I’m sure you know just what to write to make sure that won’t happen, don’t you?”

The unspoken threat is clear, and Jason’s fingers curl in the sheets of the bed, while his backside throbs. He wants to glare, to snap, but instead he reminds himself of the plan he’s made.

_Stay calm._

“Yes,” he answers carefully, “Of course I do.”

There’s a moment where Jason can feel Slade’s eye searching him before he nods, “Good boy. Then why don’t you come over here and write it now. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

He swallows. “That isn’t necessary. I’m sure you have better things to do. I can just hand it to the maid to post after I finish.”

“I’m sure you could, but I’ll decide for myself what is and isn’t necessary in this house, boy.” Slade taps his fingers against the desk, “And besides, I can make sure it gets delivered for you quicker this way.”

 _By ensuring I won’t have to write it twice if the first draft doesn’t meet your approval, you mean?_ Jason bites his lip on saying. Instead, he nods, and still with evident difficulty, forces himself to get up from the bed and hobble over to where Slade is waiting for him.

He can’t fight back, but nor can he give in too easily. This is going to be a hard balance to maintain.

“Here,” Slade says genially, pulling out the chair for him in what is probably an equally calculated gentlemanly display. “You seem in pain still.”

“I’m getting better,” Jason manages, wincing when he sits down. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Slade leans his hip back against the desk again. “You are the omega of the house.”

That was definite sarcasm there, but Jason knows better than to call him out on it. Picking up the pen, he unstoppers the ink bottle and pulls the paper in front of him before trying to think what to write. He wants to slip the code he and Bruce agreed on in right away, but with Slade watching, reading, it’s important it sounds natural. Because if he suspects what Jason’s doing in any way…

Trying to keep a steady hand, he forces himself instead to focus on writing the basics any letter would contain under these circumstances. A confirmation that he arrived at Slade’s home safely, that he and Dick are well, and that he misses his family. Jason adds in a few details about their journey, too, as well as information about the land in which he now lives. Things that look harmless on the surface, but may still be useful to Bruce when the time comes.

But scattered as his mind is, and unnerved by Slade’s attention and presence so close again, he cannot find a way to insert their code in naturally. Soon enough, Jason finds that he’s reached the end of what seems right and proper to say. Regretfully, he signs his name at the bottom, then leans back in the chair while he waits for the ink to dry.

The next letter, he decides. He’ll get the code in then. Slade has thrown him off today by appearing in person to watch him write it. But on the next one, he will do what is necessary to get them help.

“Hm,” Slade picks the letter up a second after, giving the words written therein a more careful perusal now that he’s done. “This is acceptable. I’ll make sure it reaches your father by next week.”

“Acceptable…” Jason echoes before he can stop himself, then hunches his shoulders when Slade casts a sharp look down at him. “I mean, good. I’m glad. Thank you.”

“You don’t sound terribly grateful, boy,” Slade’s fingers, rough from handling weapons, catch his chin, “But believe me, you should be after all the trouble you’ve caused.”

Even that light contact is enough to make Jason’s stomach clench, his skin crawl. Shuddering, he answers, “I never meant to cause any trouble.”

“And yet you did.”

Slade’s voice holds no sympathy for him, no understanding. And why would it? Now that the truth of his nature has been revealed, it’s clear to Jason that, so far as Slade is concerned, he’s nothing more than a simultaneous means of control and drain on Dick’s attention. Valuable, yet resented for his presence all at the same time.

“Only because I didn’t know the rules then. I’ll do better now.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Slade replies, his eye boring into him as his fingers tighten further on Jason’s jaw, “But I suppose any disobedient bitch can be taught to behave better with a firm enough hand.”

Jason flinches, but manages to resist the urge to try and pull away. “Alpha, please…” he begins, making deliberate use of the title, “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. You don’t need to—”

“Hurt you again?” Slade finishes for him.

Tight-lipped, Jason nods.

“Good, because I promise you, omega, what you’ve experienced so far is nothing compared to what I will do should you continue to piss me off.” His nails are just starting to cut into Jason’s skin before he abruptly lets go. “Speaking of rules, though, allow me to go over a few more of them now that you’ve healed enough to be moving about again. Starting with where you can and cannot go.”

“Of course, Alpha.” Jason manages again, doing his utmost to look like he’s paying diligent attention as Slade continues to speak.

“The house is free for you to roam, but any door you find closed but your own, you don't go through. Nor will you attempt to leave the grounds without my express permission and an escort. And if you require anything outside of what is already available to you in the house, you will ask _me_ for it first and no one else.”

Slade’s eye meets his again, and his next words are spoken with deathly seriousness, “Do not attempt to send my servants on frivolous errands for your own amusement, boy. If you do, you and I will have unpleasant words.”

So basically, anything that gives him even a modicum of freedom is not allowed. Jason bites the inside of his cheek before nodding again, “Duly noted.”

Slade snorts, but doesn’t call him out on his less than enthusiastic reply. This time, at least.

“I also expect you to arrive promptly in the dining room for meals every day. Outside of those, however, your time is your own.”

“Just so long as I don’t cause trouble.” Jason replies.

“Yes,” Slade’s voice cuts sharper, “Just so long as you don’t do that.” Straightening up from the desk, he folds up Jason’s letter before slipping it into his pocket. “Now, I have other matters to attend to today. I’ll see you at dinner later. Do not be late.”

The moment he’s gone, Jason slumps downward into his seat. He didn’t realise it then, but he was sweating the entire time Slade was here, and now his skin feels horribly cool and clammy in his wake. Enough that even with the balmy temperature outside, he’s shivering.

God, he needs a bath. More than that, he needs to get out of here. Except he can’t do that without help and Dick. Two things that will be impossible if he can’t get the message that he needs aid out to Bruce soon.

Reaching up to rub his face, Jason tries to regain his composure, as well as to not dwell on just how long he’ll have to wait to be able to write that second letter.

 

* * *

 

The next week passes at a crawl. Warily at first, Jason takes Slade’s permission to set out from his room and explore the rest of the house and the grounds, while also obediently (despite his natural inclination to do otherwise) refraining from going through any closed doors he encounters.

Slade’s estate is, at least in outward appearance, a pleasant place to be. The layout is wide and open. The gardens simple in design, but well maintained. There’s a well-stocked library open to him, and the servants are perfectly pleasant when he addresses them, though difficult to draw into conversation outside of giving orders. Which is largely fine, since Jason suspects that even if he did talk to them, their loyalty to Slade would win out over any respect for his privacy.

The closest he gets to a friendly face amongst them is the stable boy. A young alpha who gives Jason a clear up and down the first time he goes to look at the horses (which is no great motivator to take any risks either).

At least when Dick did that the first time they met, he’d been a lot more subtle about it. Though not subtle enough that Jason didn’t give him a purposefully hard time during the weeks that followed for it — mostly out of a mistaken belief that Dick was judging him behind that handsome face and the light smile he wore every time he looked at him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tim had been the one to comment on his disproportionately harsh behaviour first, then Cass and Alfred, and eventually even Damian had pointed out Jason was being unfair to the point he finally felt guilty enough about to go find Dick and apologise. And after that…

Abruptly, Jason finds himself thinking of those first few kisses, stolen in the shadows and warm hay smell of the barn out behind their house. One of Dick’s hands on his hip, the other in his hair. Jason had smelled as much like straw as him by the end of it, and there had been an uncomfortable slip back indoors to try and avoid Bruce realising his indiscretion before they were ready for him to know.

The next day, Dick had walked in the front door of the house, with his clothes cleaned, hair combed and obvious nerves, to ask in a deceptively steady voice Bruce’s permission to court him properly. It had been sweet the way he’d said it, Jason remembers that much, and for a moment the memory shines bright and golden in his chest.

Except, of course, thinking of that now only makes his current situation feel worse, and with a sigh Jason draws back away from the horse whose nose he had been petting.

It’s not as if he can go riding anyway. Not without asking Slade’s permission, or being accompanied in some way by an escort. A fact that will almost certainly take the joy out of it even if he is given the go ahead.

Leaving the stables behind — and the stable boy, still giving him surreptitious glances out of the corner of his eye from where he’s mucking out a nearby stall — Jason heads back up into the house and to his room.

When he steps inside, though, it’s to find Dick waiting there for him.

“Slade’s gone to town,” he says, before Jason can question his presence. “He should be gone for a couple of hours, at least.”

Not throwing himself into his arms right then and there is one of the hardest things Jason’s ever done, particularly with his recent reminiscing over how they first got together. But he can’t, because it’s not that simple. Because he has a plan, and he has to do whatever’s necessary to work it.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t know you were in here,” he says, casting a worried look back at the door, “What about the servants?”

“Screw the servants,” Dick answers, already closing the distance between them. “I needed to see you.”

“Dick, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” his mate answers, and Jason shudders as Dick’s hand lifts up to cup his face. “Only seeing you at meals every day is killing me, Jay.”

“I don’t want to give him an excuse to hurt you again.” Jason admits, his attempt to turn his face away only succeeding in pressing his cheek more firmly into Dick’s hand.

“I can handle whatever Slade has to throw at me. Missing you will always hurt more.” Dick counters, tugging Jason to look directly at him again.

The bruises Slade left on his face have faded as much as the ones he left on Jason’s thighs and rear have. But it’s with a gut certainty that Jason knows there must be other, fresher ones hidden elsewhere under Dick’s clothes.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he mutters, “After everything that happened, after what I did…”

Dick’s expression tightens, but then he seems to force himself past whatever thought he’s having. “I’m not… I’m not going to pretend that didn’t hurt me, Jason. That it doesn’t still hurt. But I hurt you, too. And I know from experience how much of an expert Slade is at twisting unsuspecting people into doing what he wants them to do. We both made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean that I still don’t want to be with you. Or that we can’t fix this.”

“Fix it?” Jason repeats before he can stop himself, “Dick…”

“I’m going to get you out of here, Jason. I promised I would and I meant it,” his mate tells him with serious eyes, “I just need you to give me a little more time.”

“And where would we go afterwards?” Jason forces himself to ask, instead of jumping on the opportunity. “It’s not like we can go back to Bruce, that’s the first place he’d look.”

“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” Dick answers, “But there will be somewhere. There has to be. A place we can go where he won’t reach us.” His other hand finds Jason’s and squeezes, “I’ll go to the other side of the world with you if I have to. Whatever it takes.”

Jason laughs bitterly, “Dick, I have the strong impression the only way you’ll ever be safe from that man is the day he’s dead, and neither of us are capable of making that happen right now.”

“Jason…” Dick replies, lips thinning.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life running and looking over my shoulder for him, Dick. And that’s exactly what will happen if we do make a break for it.”

Dick is quiet for a moment, “Staying here and spending every moment afraid that if we say one word out of place he’ll beat us for it is no way to live either.”

Jason bites his lip. “I…” he shakes his head, “I don’t know. I just don’t know, okay? Things are bad enough as they are already, I don’t want them to get worse.”

“Jason, nothing can be worse than this.” Dick steps closer, and his scent invades Jason’s nose all the more in that moment. Sweet, sharp, warm caramel, but also tinged and polluted by something else. Iron, and blood. “Just promise me that when I tell you it’s time to run, you’ll come with me.”

Jason doesn’t answer him, just looks down at the floor. It’s an easier way of refuting Dick’s plan than actually verbally rejecting it, and he tells himself everything will be worth it, just as soon as he gets word to Bruce and his father comes to help them. There’s never been any situation he’s not been able to find a workaround for. With enough time and preparation, Bruce can overcome anything.

He just wishes he could tell Dick that.

“Okay,” Dick says, after about a minute, “Okay.”

His fingers are holding Jason’s painfully tight now, but Jason doesn’t fight it as he’s pulled forward into a proper embrace. Dick’s lips find his cheek, then he rubs their heads together, spreading scent in what instinct says is a calming gesture.

It feels good. More than good. It feels _dangerous_ , and yet, Jason still doesn’t want to let go. But he has to. Slade can’t come back and find them like this. Not if either of them want to still be walking tomorrow.

“Dick, please,” he says hoarsely, feeling how his throat has tightened up in the seconds since he last spoke, and the soft sigh Dick makes before releasing him is deafening in his ears.

“I love you,” he says, as he pulls back, “Just… remember that, Jason. I love you, and I’ll do whatever I have to to protect you.”

“I know.” _That’s what I’m afraid of._

Dick watches him for another minute, then leaning in, presses a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back again and walking out of the door.

 

* * *

 

Slade never confronts Jason about Dick visiting him, but the next day, Jason observes that Dick seems to be carrying himself a little more stiffly than usual, and the sight furthers his resolve that he did the right thing in pushing him away.

He can’t — he won’t — be responsible for Slade inflicting Dick with more injuries. No matter how much he craves to see him otherwise.

More time passes, during which he does his best to keep himself preoccupied in any way he can while he waits for Bruce to write back. Though is a little insulted when his request for activities to Slade is answered with the arrival of a small basket of embroidery supplies, among other craft materials considered to be traditional noble omega pastimes. A deliberate attempt to provoke him, Jason decides, rather than any real ignorance as to the type of omega he is. But still, it doesn’t sting as bad as the day a seamstress shows up to take his measurements, because apparently most of the clothes he brought with him aren’t up to Slade’s exacting standards either.

He forces himself to keep his cool throughout all of it, accepting everything with meek gratitude, no matter how much it burns him up inside.

Then, finally, two weeks later, Bruce’s letter arrives.

Outwardly, it’s just a normal letter, pleasant and polite. Bruce expresses his relief that Jason arrived at Slade’s estate safely, and that he’s settling into his new home. There’s a good segment that is just news about his brothers and sister, as well as Alfred, but at the end is an expressed hope that he’s not feeling too homesick, and it’s there that Jason can read between the lines.

Despite Slade choosing to stand over him again while he writes it, Jason is better prepared this time with his reply. He writes more assurances that he’s doing well, and responds naturally to the news about Tim, Damian and Cass. But alongside it, he carefully threads in the code they agreed upon. A cry that not all is right here, and he needs help.

It’s with baited breath that he waits as Slade reads it, but just like the first letter, it appears to pass inspection, before disappearing into the man’s pocket.

Then it’s just a matter of waiting while keeping his head down in the meantime. Something that shouldn’t be that hard, considering that’s all he’s been trying to do ever since he arrived here.

Only there’s one thing he hasn’t taken into account coming up. One terrible, horrible event he’s forgotten about, too distracted by everything else.

It starts as an itch felt deep in his bones the morning after a second night of increasingly restless sleep. Jason spends an hour picking at the formerly-soft clothes that now feel rough and too tight against his skin, then another moving around his room organising and then reorganising his various possessions before he realises — with a gut wrenching epiphany — what’s happening.

His heat. His fucking _heat_. Normally, he’s always on top of keeping track of its arrival, but today… Jason feels cold dread seeping down his spine.

No, no. This cannot happen. Not with Slade. Jason doubts the man will be content to stay back and allow him and Dick to go through with it alone together, which either means he’ll be left to suffer the consequences of his heat by himself or…

Or Slade will involve himself as well.

Panic sets in, and even though the rational parts of Jason know it’s fruitless, he still finds himself grabbing the chair from in front of his desk and setting it under the door handle instead. Then, retreating to the bed, ignores the heavy curtains designed to give a sense of safety and seclusion in favour of climbing down underneath it instead.

With heavy wood above him, as well the hanging drape of the bed covers, he feels safer here. Not ‘safe’ exactly, but _safer_. And to his increasingly heat-addled mind over the course of the next couple hours, that’s all that seems to matter. Jason stays curled in a tight ball, ignoring all else but the flames licking their way up under his skin; the wetness of slick growing between his legs. He wishes Dick were here, but to find him would mean going out _there_ , and he can’t.

He _can’t_.

Someone knocks on the door. Tries the handle, then calls his name.

Jason ignores them, curling tighter and setting his teeth against the noise. The tactic buys him a few more minutes of peace, but that’s all. A louder knock soon comes, one followed by a much more thunderous voice.

“Jason, open the door.” Slade orders him.

In response, he shudders, hugging himself tighter as Slade’s ire increases.

“Jason, open the door right now or I _will_ break it down.”

Numbly, he shakes his head, despite how foolish that is when there’s no one else around to see him do it. Jason’s throat hurts with the feeling of being locked up tight, but no matter how fiercely Slade snarls, he can’t bring himself to utter even a single syllable in return. Not even as the sound of the door being kicked open reaches his ears, swiftly followed by that of the chair he used to block it being thrown to the other side of the room. Footsteps soon follow, but don’t make it more than five paces inside before drawing to a halt.

Nerves ticking higher, Jason strains his ears for any hint of what Slade’s going to do next. Any word. But before he can, a second set of — lighter footsteps — come charging into the room.

“Slade, wait! Whatever he blocked the door for, it—” Dick’s voice cuts off sharply as he audibly inhales. “... oh. Oh fuck.”

“Indeed,” Slade says, and then Jason hears his heavier tread moving forwards again. “It seems Jason’s been trying to hide something from us.”

“Slade! Slade, wait! Don’t—”

A broad hand latches around Jason’s ankle, and he lets out a high-pitched whine of protest as, with a powerful heave of his arm, Slade makes to drag him out from under the bed. All sense of security vanishes in that moment, replaced instead by light and a scent he wants no part of. Whining, he tries to protest the treatment and kicks out at his captor. Only then his wrists are seized instead, and Jason swiftly finds himself unceremoniously flattened against the floor.

“That’s enough of that, I think,” Slade’s fingers tighten, “Be still, Jason. You’ve already caused enough trouble for one day without inviting more.”

He shudders, fear twisting with desire in his stomach as he stares up at Slade’s face.

 _Alpha_ , instinct says, urging surrender and submission. _His_ alpha _._ Only he’s not. Jason knows that, as he grasps at the remaining straws of his reasoning. Slade is his pack leader, but not his mate. He doesn’t want him here. He doesn’t, he doesn’t—

“Dick,” he whines, because he can smell him here, too. His mate. His true alpha. “Dick, please…”

“Jason…”

He sees a hand reaching down toward him, accompanied by an increase of that scent, but then — quick as a flash — Slade is knocking it away. Not just that, he growls as well, and all at once Jason cowers back, letting out a frightened whine at the same time as he bares his throat.

“Go tell the servants to bring us some food and water, boy,” Slade says, and it’s clear he’s no longer talking to Jason now. “Make sure it’s enough to last at least a day.”

Dick audibly swallows. “Slade. Slade, please. He’s my mate. It’ll only take a couple of days. Please, just let me handle this alone.”

Slade’s eye leaves Jason for a moment. It’s a relief, but also a concern.

“And you are _mine_.” he growls, “Don’t make me have this conversation with you again, Dick. You know I don’t like having to repeat myself.”

The tension beats higher in the air.

“You don’t even want him,” Dick says bitterly then, “Not really. You don’t—”

“ _Boy_.” Slade growls, and Jason flinches back again, barely registering the sound of Dick’s footsteps stomping back towards the door now. But he barely has any time to reflect on that before Slade is suddenly using the grip he has on Jason’s wrist to haul him up onto his feet.

He stumbles along the way, but it doesn’t turn out to matter much, as Slade’s very next action is to push him down onto his bed. Immediately, Jason scrambles away from him, not stopping until his back hits the headboard. An action the alpha watches with cool regard, before reaching to start undoing the buttons of his vest. “I do hope you’re not going to make every step of this difficult for me, Jason. You know you won’t enjoy that.”

“I don’t…” Jason sets his teeth, sweating as he watches him dress down, “I don’t want you.”

“Evidently,” Slade remarks dryly, “But don’t worry, that will change soon enough.”

Jason swallows thickly, giving in to the urge to press his thighs tighter together for all the good it will do. His mind and his heart recoils from what’s about to happen, but instinct — and everything that goes with it — is growing stronger all the time. It wants, it craves. And Jason has already denied it longer than he ordinarily would, making it even harder to stay in control.

“You’re not my mate, you’re not…”

“No, but I am the leader of this pack, and that means I can do what I want with the rest of you, remember?”

Slade sits down at the edge of the bed, close, but not quite touching him yet. At the same time, Dick reappears in the room, and Jason immediately keens towards him.

“I passed the message along,” he says, surly as he skirts around the opposite side of the bed from Slade to reach out and take Jason’s hand, “They’ll bring everything up within the hour.”

The moment their skin makes contact, something settles within him. Jason wraps his fingers tight around Dick’s, holding on almost for dear life as he lifts his head and cautiously scents the air. Everything still smells overwhelmingly of Slade, but now that his mate’s here again, that’s changing. There’s warm, heated caramel amongst the blood-soaked gunpowder, and oh, he wants more.

“Dick,” he purrs as his arousal heightens, voice turning low and sultry, “Dick.”

Dick swallows. “The door is broken,” he manages to say, continuing to talk to Slade, “Maybe we should move to—”

“No,” Slade cuts him off, eye moving between them, “That’s his fault. He can deal with consequences. Now,” his voice deepens, “Get him undressed for me.”

Dick starts, while the words just kind of float around Jason’s ears (undressed, yes, he’d like to be that). “What?”

“Do it,” Slade says, “Or I’ll do it myself. Take your pick.”

“Slade, you really—”

“Do you want me to tie you to a chair and make you watch me take him through the whole thing?” Slade’s voice comes sharper, and though embittered, Dick soon shakes his head. “That’s what I thought. No more arguments, boy; do as I say when I say it, or else.”

Dick’s hand grips Jason’s all the harder, and Jason whines a little at the uncomfortable pressure before eventually his mate’s shoulders slump.

“Yes, Alpha,” he mutters, then, “C’mere, Jay. Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s all going to be okay.”

Dick draws him closer, and Jason willingly goes, crowding up against him to nuzzle his jaw. In truth, he’s not very helpful when it comes to the removal of his clothes, too busy chasing the source of Dick’s scent and trying to tempt him to touch him the way he really wants to be touched. But no matter how hard he tries, it’s like Dick is always evading him, even at the same time as he works to bare his skin. It’s endlessly frustrating, and by the end of it Jason is whining, low and steady, to make his discomfort clear.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Dick murmurs against his ear, then kisses it, “I’m sorry. We’ll get through this; don’t fight, okay?”

Jason has no time to process what that could mean before a large, powerful hand closes around his ankle. In seconds, his legs have been yanked out from under him, sending him to lie down flat onto his stomach on the mattress, before that same hand then moves its grip to his hip. From there, he’s pulled up, molded almost, into the presenting position that should come naturally to him, rather than being forced.

But forced it is, and Jason doesn’t like that one bit, even as a shiver of anticipation runs its way up his spine.

“Dick,” he whimpers, trying to lift his head up, only for another hand to clamp around the back of his neck and push it back down. “Dick, please…”

“Slade—” Dick starts to say, only for a tremendous warning growl from behind Jason to immediately shut him up.

Instead, Jason once again feels warm, familiar hands grasp his, and, taking the hint, he twines his fingers around Dick’s in return. Just in time, too, as Slade wastes not another moment before shoving into him.

The bed shakes. And, in a different way, so does he. Jason can’t really do much more than whimper and hold onto Dick’s hands as he’s fucked. It’s both what he wants and the furthest thing from it — satisfying instinct, but nothing more. Which isn’t surprising, as distantly, through the haze, he knows that Slade doesn’t care about his comfort, or his needs. This is all about power for him: putting Jason and Dick in their place, and reminding them both that Slade and Slade alone is the one in control here. Anything else is inconsequential.

All Jason can do is hold on, through this, and everything else that follows.

Slade takes him, knots him. Sinks his teeth into the back of Jason’s neck. Then, after what feels like forever, withdraws, leaving him uncomfortably bare and empty in a way that soon works to have him whimpering for attention again.

This time, however, it is _Dick_ who comes to him. Who is _allowed_ to come to him, with gentle hands on Jason’s cheeks and warm kisses pressed to his lips as he rolls him over onto his back, evidently determined to go about this in as opposite a way to Slade’s approach as possible.

Jason comes apart under his touches, as warm fingers stroke over his chest, teasing his nipples before sliding up his neck to his scent glands, and when they’re tied together, Dick presses a cup of water to his lips, before tenderly stroking Jason’s hair as he dozes.

Warm. Safe. Loved. The feeling lasts for all of half an hour, before Slade reappears in his periphery and the cycle begins all over again.

For the next three days, Jason’s world boils down to nothing more than sex, food and sleep as his heat burns through him. Fog settles over his mind more heavily than usual, perhaps because there are two alphas keeping him company this time, though as the days drag on, it seems like Slade allows Dick to be the one who satisfies his needs more and more. Which would be a good thing, except…

Except that for a few times, Jason is stirred from sleep or the blissed out haze of being fucked by the sound of his mate’s gasps, whimpers, and bitten-down grunts, as well as the feeling of the bed shaking from no action of his own. His dreams turn dark and restless in response, but every time he does truly wake, the only thing he sees is either Dick or Slade there ready to deal with him again and nothing else.

It isn’t until he wakes up again on the morning of the fourth day, stiff and sticky from what feels like head to toe with the worst of the heat behind him, that Jason finally processes what those sounds truly meant, and his stomach curdles in response to the horror of it.

“Dick,” he whispers, looking across to where his mate is currently sleeping next to him. At some point, one of them had finally had the sense to close the curtains around the bed, but even in the gloom the shadows cast over the bed, he can still make out the raw marks Slade’s teeth have left on Dick’s neck and shoulders.

Reaching out, Jason gently brushes his fingers over the closest imprint, only to stop when Dick shivers in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters next, while wishing that he could say more. But as comforting as the closed curtains are, he also knows they mean Slade could still be close by and he wouldn’t realise it because of them. After all, it’s doubtful that he’d leave Dick here alone with Jason for long, even if the two of them are supposedly sleeping.

Instead, he settles for weakly inching closer to Dick, and moves his hand to stroke his hair.

Help will be coming soon, he tells himself. Bruce will be coming, and as much as this hurts now, that pain can be healed once they’re home again. Until then, they have to survive by whatever means possible, as well as endure everything Slade chooses to throw at them. It’s the only way.

Or at least, Jason had thought it was until now. But lying here, looking at Dick exhausted and hurt from Slade’s ministrations, he’s not so sure anymore. Maybe he should have agreed to his mate’s plan to run away together instead, taking their chances that way, instead of forcing Dick to stay and suffer like this.

It’s too late to change his mind now, though. Jason made his decision, and he’s going to have to live with the consequences of it until Bruce arrives. And possibly after, too. Not all wounds heal so quickly, after all. He knows that truth better than almost anyone, though knowing all that he does now, Jason thinks that Dick is probably the leader in such understanding. How he survived so long alone with Slade before…

Shuddering, Jason bites his lip.

He has to have faith in the choice he made. In Bruce. Until then…

Until then, all he can do is try and mitigate the damage. Starting with taking advantage of every precious second of alone time Slade gives him (intentionally or not) with his mate. All while trying very hard not to think of any worse consequences that may yet come from his body’s decision to drive him into heat at this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warnings: Heat, rape, implied off-screen rape of another character, threats of violence.


End file.
